#WAIT i can use the content labels now :3

[tiramissyoucake]

HIIII!! i js read ur thing ab the different roles w the variants (the bakery one n the idol one) and they were so good!!

i was wondering if u could write the mohawk (OF) one n the shiesty (streamer) mark ones??

love ur writing <33

Heeey thanks! I had a feeling someone would ask, I'm not rlly proud of Shiesty Mark's part here since I didn't know what to do wit it but I hope ya'll like it.

MINORS + AGELESS BLOGS DNI, this has nsfw on Mohawk's part (shocker!)

CW: masturbation, dildos, nsfw videos

Based on this

Pt. 1 here

Mohawk Invincible:

There always was a certain guilt that gnawed at him whenever he spent money on not safe for work content, though Mark never had an issue shoving aside his conscience, he had an issue shoving aside the discomfort when the content wasn't catered to him enough, did people on OF just forget how to be sexy?

One thing he dislikes for 2 seconds and he scrolls. It turns him off immediately. He spends more time cringing at his phone with his dick in his hand trying to find someone, *anyone* that can scratch that itch just right.

So imagine his pure euphoria when he spots your face, gets through your paywall and sees just how well you cater to him.

God, your angles, the setting and your noises, he has to pace himself and refrain from fisting his cock so quickly and cumming to soon, he wants to savor your videos and pictures.

He has notifications turned on for all your socials, he's the first to pay for your content, the first to comment. Anytime his dick hardens even a little bit he immediately pulls up your page.

Mark sees you take commissions and practically works overtime to make his request happen, a grin tearing through when the payment is accepted and in less than 3 days, a video was already up labelled 'commissions'

This time, he didn't have to get through a paywall because it was sent to him the moment it was finished.

The details were simple: he wanted a personalised boyfriend experience video, you had to use a dildo as a replacement but fuck, you were so good at convincing him it was real when you moaned his name.

He was glad he let you post it, these chumps needed to know who was your best supporter.

"Missed you all day, Mark..." he bit his bottom lip harshly at the whiny tone from the video, watching you fuck yourself to please him gave him such an ego trip. Money well spent.

The way you called out his name repeatedly and so sweetly was enough for him to coat his stomach in white spurts, hissing in pleasure when he realised that he timed his orgasm with yours just right, thank God he tipped you.

. . .

Hearing a cry for help from a desecrated building, a blood-thirsty smile came across Mark's features as he followed the shouts asking for anyone to help. This was his favorite; pose as a helping hero, outstretch a hand to help before killing them shamelessly.

Something about that voice was familiar, like he heard it before. He blamed it on the acoustics of the surrounding rubble and smoke, he found the source, a store toppled over and broken into bits of concrete, he could see a head of hair and one outstretched hand

"Please! Anyone! I'm stuck!!"

"Are you now?" His boots came into your view as you strained to look up, not exactly Invincible himself... "have no fear, citizen." He mocked with a grin, effortlessly removing a large chunk of stone and throwing it God knows where, lifting you out from underneath.

He paused, looking over your physique and expression, the voice was freaky but this was... freakier. Something stirred in him.

"... Oh. Ooooh." He laughed, holding you closely as his eyes raked over you. "Holy shit, you have no idea how long I've been waiting for this."

Perplexed, you tried to separate from him only to be met with an unmoving grip. "You went off the grid in my dimension, y'know? Just. Poof! But damn! No one could really make me cum like you did!" He almost sighed romantically

Your face contorted to a cringe as you tried to shove him away. "What're you talking about?! Let go of me, you pervert!!"

"Oh, you have no clue." He grinned, his hands branching out to grip you wherever, landing on your ass his fingers squeezed and kneaded the flesh as he looked over your shoulder, hissing through his teeth as the memories came flooding back "I could never forget this ass either.."

Your face flushed in embarassment, his grip too tight for you to break free. "Mmh, this is better than that vid I commissioned. I threw so much money at you, baby!" Mark was well aware you didn't know what he was referring to, you weren't the same person but this was definitely the same body. Like you were made from the same mould.

"Let's go somewhere private, I'll show you just how well I know you."

♡

Shiesty Mark:

College was boring, studying was worse. Music did not help him focus and podcasts on topics he cared about just ruined his focus, Mark scoured the Internet for any sources, anything that he could play while absentmindedly focusing.

It was only when he came across a tiktok of yours playing some overly pixilated game that his interest was piqued, nonsensical commentary was everyone's cup of tea nowadays, so, by pure coincidence, he found you were live when he looked for your channel.

You were playing a horror game, Poppy bedtime or whatever, he didn't. The way you reacted to the scares, your cocky attitude when you solved a puzzle, the way you focused on boss fights was charming. It wasn't long before he managed to go through all the slides needed for his quiz and you were still going, vowing to finish the game. A comment wouldn't hurt.

MarkG_: I finished studying for my quiz and ur still playing lol

To his surprise, you noted his comment through the handful of viewers. "You finished studying? Oh, good luck on the quiz! I'm actually happy this chapter is longer, The last one was so short!"

Maybe a few more comments wouldn't hurt, soon enough he was a regular who commented game suggestions or simple friendly jabs, he never really crossed a line with you given you started as a distraction and he insisted you still were.

You played the games he recommended, greeted him when he made his presence known, his heart pounded in his chest every time you did because it meant you were keeping him in mind during these long streams, not those other losers, but him.

Someone did cross a line at some point, a self-proclaimed and entitled 'fan', putting your safety in danger and ultimately causing you to apologise and go offline for a while for your safety. That time was painfully quiet, other streamers were too boring or too loud, he understood your need to put some distance between you and entitled fans but fuck, he was tired of watching old vods.

It didn't really matter, being Invincible soon swallowed up so much of his time he didn't check back to see you when you returned.

. . .

Another pathetic squirming hero, another embarrassing defeat. Mark held the 'hero's wrist with a bored expression behind the loose face covering as he crushed the hero's wrist. "Seriously? You guys are lame, y'know there's like 20 of us?"

He didn't wait for a response as he lifted and launched them into whatever structure was in view, grinning at the impact as the hero crashed through a building and succumbed to the debris. "C'mon! Is nobody in this shithole worth it?!" He almost shrieked, waiting for a beat to see if anyone would try to refute him, the destruction can wait.

A rock flew through the air and decked him in the back of his head, it didn't hurt but it pissed him off, eyebrows furrowing and turning to look.

You stood with an arm outstretched, holding a metal pipe from where he was sure was the destroyed city, you looked terrified. "... this some kinda joke?"

You lifted the pipe, if you'll die you'll go out fighting like hell, no man impersonates your close friend without you beating the shit out of him. "What?! Hotshot alien too scared to take on ONE human?!"

He noted your features, you looked different without a camera at one fixed angle. Realisation came to him, you were that cute streamer he followed back in his world.

"No shit, of course you'd be here." He came closer, asfalt and dirt crunching under his boots as you readjusted your grip. "Back off!"

"Of fucking course, because why not? Let's make it more of a pain in my ass! Give me someone I don't wanna kill in this stupid town!" His rambling unnerved you, but you stood your ground. The moment he lifted a hand to grab you, your arms reacted and swung as hard as you could, the pipe connecting with his head. Nothing.

Mark stayed quiet, the resounding echo of the pipe connecting with his skull disappearing as his hand clutched it and tore it from your hands, bending it in his grip like it was some pretzel and throwing it aside. "Got it outta your system?"

"Fuck you!" You spat out immediately, you were more hostile here, that's for sure.

"Maybe let's get to know each other first." He grinned behind the cloak-like covering. "Don't struggle."

You gasped as he bent down and easily threw you over his shoulder, your fists immediately beating his back. "Let go of me! I'll kill you!" You were so cute.

"Sure, I'd love to see you try to wrestle me down, hun." He chuckled, glancing around the ruined town. "Hold on tight, I fucked this place up too good."

He'll find a little corner to be able to talk to you properly, he hadn't heard your voice in so long, he almost felt guilty taking pleasure in your screaming as you held onto him while he soared through the sky.

"We'll get real close and personal this time, alright?"

[moonstruckme]

hi mae, how you've been? if your request are open could i make one? if they're not, please ignore this ^^

could you write remus with (gn) reader that struggles with english? (as a language fjdndnd). for example, they could be an exchange student and finds difficult to find the words to communicate, but can completely understand a whole conversation, like its just hard for them to express themselves? idk if you get what i mean, sorry for the nonsense 😭😭😭

you write beautifully, i can't wait to read the next thawing out chapter!!!!! xoxoxo

Thank for requesting angel <3

cw: hints of maybe some social anxiety (?) around language learning

Remus Lupin x gn!reader ♡ 1k words

In group settings, you’ve become an unintentional wallflower. The conversations among this group, specifically, are too rapid-fire for your tentative tongue to keep up with, so you find yourself tracking it and letting your own thoughts pass unvoiced. At least at Sirius’ Christmas party, you’re not the only wallflower in the mix. 

Remus acts much like you, sometimes. He sits back, listens, smiles to himself at his friends’ antics. Sometimes James or Sirius will prompt him with a question, like they’re used to having to drag him into their two-man show, but for the most part he seems content to enjoy being around everyone in quietude. Until, at least, he leans over to speak to you. 

“You alright?” he asks in a low voice, underneath the story James is telling about Christmas shopping with his mum. 

You blink, surprised. “Yes.” 

“You seem a bit quiet.” Remus looks curious, but he doesn’t push. There’s a tiny fluttering in your stomach at being noticed. You’ve talked with Remus on a couple of occasions—and it’s true, you did have more to say then than you do now, in this bantery group—but you wouldn’t have expected him to note the change. “How’s your drink?” 

He’s looking at your cup, nearly full despite the hour you’ve been nursing it. 

“It’s…” You don’t know the polite way to say what you want to say. Maybe there is none. 

Remus smiles. “You aren’t in love with it, then?” 

You think you might go still, just the phrase in love sending heat to your cheeks. “It’s not very bad,” you try to laugh. “It’s…what’s the word…heavy?”

His brows furrow for a second, but then he realizes. “Oh, is it very strong?” 

You nod, relieved. “Yes.” 

He laughs. “Well, that’s what happens when Sirius makes them. Sorry, we ought to have warned you.” He glances over his shoulder at his friend, as though checking whether he’s been overheard; you don’t get the impression he would care much if he had. When his eyes return to you, you have the impression of staring into a fireplace; a steady, comforting warmth. “Come with me,” he says. 

Remus leads you to the kitchen. To the scene of the crime, where your first drink was concocted. Sirius is nothing if not well prepared; the counter is stocked with rows of alcohol and mixers, plus canned drinks and non-alcoholic options. Remus finds you a new cup. 

“What do you like?” 

You can see a bottle of what you want on the counter, but the name eludes you. You’re not close enough to try and read the label. “Anything.” 

Remus’ eyebrow twitches. “Really, anything?” He looks at you. It feels like being peeled like a tangerine, like he’s somehow seeing your squishy insides. “You don’t have any preference?”

You gnaw the inside of your cheek. “I, uh…” You reach past him, picking up the bottle. “This, please. Sorry, I don’t have the name…” 

“That’s alright,” Remus says easily. He gives you a gentle smile as he takes the bottle from you, and your heart does something awful behind your ribs. “You don’t need to know it. Whatever works, right?” 

“Right,” you echo embarrassedly. 

He asks you to pick a mixer, and when you point again starts to pour. “So,” he says, “is there a reason you’re not talking to us?” 

You blink at him. “What?” 

“You’ve just been keeping more to yourself tonight.” There’s a hint of something you can’t identify in Remus’ tone, but you can’t seek clues in his face when he’s looking down at your drink. “Is it something we did?” 

“No. I’m not…no.” You shake your head fervently. “I like you.” You take Remus’ wrist, and he looks up, surprised. “I like you.” 

“Hey, it’s okay.” His voice softens at the distress in your expression. “I was only joking, sweetheart. I’m sorry.” 

Relief seeps into you. You feel your posture ease, your face clearing, but Remus only melts further. 

“Oh, I’m sorry.” He wraps an arm around your shoulders, drawing you into a hug. “I didn’t mean to freak you out. I didn’t really think you were angry with us.” Your arms come around him too, on instinct, and he presses a kiss to the top of your head. “It’s just that you’ve been so quiet and I wanted to ask why, but I was only teasing.”

“It’s okay.” You laugh a little, giddy on physical contact. “It’s not you.” 

Remus hums, still apologetic. “What’s going on, then?”

“Nothing’s going on.” You search the far corners of your mind, reaching for the words. “I’m quiet because…because I’m slow. It’s more difficult with many people.” 

Remus pulls back a bit, frowning. “You’re not slow, sweetheart.” 

“My English is slow,” you clarify.

“That’s…no.” He shakes his head. “I’m sure it does take longer to find the right words, but you don’t have to stay quiet because of that. We can wait.” 

“It’s okay,” you try to explain. “Sometimes, people need to talk fast, but, for me…it takes time.” 

“That’s fine,” says Remus. “We get it. Or, actually, we don’t, which is probably the more important part. You speak more than one language. That’s not something any of the rest of us can say—well, except Sirius, but his parents were twats, and he’s more of a twat for it, honestly.” His eyes widen a fraction. “Not that knowing more than one language makes you a twat—Sirius is, but you aren’t. I’m not trying to call you a twat.” 

You shake your head, smiling. 

“I’m trying,” Remus laughs, “to say that you’re very smart, much smarter than any of us in there who only grew up speaking English and haven’t aspired to anything more since. So if you need to speak a bit slower to get your point across, that’s perfectly alright. Is that…did that come across right?” 

“Yes,” you laugh, warmth in your cheeks. “Thank you.” 

“Don’t thank me.” Remus gives you another hug, briefer. “Just don’t be quiet, yeah? How’s this?” 

You take a tentative sip of your drink, trying to wrangle your smile. “It’s good,” you assure him. 

“Good. Let’s go.” He starts leading the way back to the party. “You had something to say when Lily was talking about her botched muffins last week, I could see it on your face. I want to hear all about it.”

[zomtart]

The Ghosts That Stay (DDBA!Frank Castle x Vigilante!Reader)

hiii!! DDBA episode 4 has been living rent free in my head so I made it a x reader version :D this does not align with canon at all so please ignore any blatant plot holes lol

content warnings: DDBA SPOILERS, mention of taking pills, canon-typical violence, language, ANGST, no happy ending (unless part 2...?), frank is hot with a beard

word count: 1k

beautiful gif below by the amazing @xxdrixx <3

Looking back, it was stupid to walk into Frank’s hideout so recklessly, but you weren’t thinking clearly. You knew him far too well to assume he wouldn’t come out swinging when he had no way of knowing who was knocking at his door.

That’s just a phrase, of course. You didn’t knock before busting the lock.

It would have at least been smart to say something on the hope he’d hear your voice, but again, you weren’t thinking clearly.

So the blame was all on you when Frank grabbed your collar, slammed you against a wall, and raised a hatchet behind his shoulder.

“Frank!” your arm reached out to grip his wrist as hard as you could, and that mixed with him recognizing you halted his momentum. “Frank—it’s me!”

The rage slowly fell from his face, a house of cards crashing down as the spot between his eyebrows smoothed, and his lips curled down. The two of you just stood there for a moment, breathing heavily and waiting for what the other would do next. Once the silence had become almost awkward, you exhaled through your nose and tilted your head slightly.

“Mind putting the hatchet down?”

He scoffs and plants it next to your head, turning around and walking back to sit down. You look around the room. Racks of guns, a wall of pictures with red X’s drawn across them. An orange bottle of pills, no prescription label wrapped around it. Frank looked about as run down as the rest of the place, his beard grown out and his hair longer than you’d seen it in some time. He looked bone-tired, with bags underneath his eyes and movements far too slow for the vigilante you knew. You felt sick when you watched him uncap the bottle and pop a pill in his mouth.

“Why are you here?” he said sharply, and you tried not to let it sting. 

You glared at him for a moment before tossing him the bullet casing with his logo engraved on it. He caught it and gave it a once over before scoffing and slamming it down on the table.

“Whoever used that killed Hector Ayala.” you said, forcing your voice to stay even, despite the onslaught of guilt and anger that flooded you when you talked of the White Tiger. “You’ve heard anything about him? Got cable down here?”

He scoffs under his breath. “For Christ’s sake. A bunch of bullshit fanboys, huh? That’s what you came all the way here for? Thought that fancy job of yours made you work late.”

There was malice in his tone and you couldn’t tell if he was baiting you or genuinely angry. Probably both. Although you had a hard time convincing yourself he cared these days.

“These people are tattooing that shit on their skin, Frank.” you said through gritted teeth. “They’re flashing it while beating innocent people. You planning on doing something about it?”

He rolled his eyes. “Oh, give me a break. What do you want me to do? Make a public statement? Run for mayor while I’m at it? It doesn’t matter what I do, those shitheads’ll believe what they wanna believe.”

“I want you to stop hiding down here.”

“For fuck’s sake.” he murmured, shaking his head like he was talking to a child. “I’m not hiding from shit.”

“You look like you haven’t slept in weeks. And you’re what—you’re just popping pills now?” The volume of your voice raised with each word. “Is this really how you wanna live?”

“As opposed to what?” he stood up, and the look in his eyes suggested you had pestered him past his breaking point. “You want me to come with you and do what?” he spit out, his words coated in venom. “You think you can make it better, ‘cause—‘cause why? ‘Cause I’d be with you?”

The silence that followed struck like lightning, a sharp inhale escaping from your throat as you instinctively stepped back. You felt traitorous tears rise behind your waterline and you turned around. It was a pathetic attempt to keep the upper hand, to pretend like his words didn’t hurt you. 

“Foggy’s gone.” you said, and you tried, God you tried to keep your words steady. To not let it crack like every other inch of you was. But you were exhausted too, and the break of your voice echoed off the walls.

“He’s—he’s dead. But you,” You whipped around to glare at Frank, jutting a finger at his chest. “You’re not. You’re still here, you’re alive, and you’re wasting it.“ 

His facade faltered, just the slightest bit. His eyebrows twitched, and out of the corner of your eye you saw his trigger finger jump. You knew you had gotten through to him, even if it was minuscule.

There was a time you would have found comfort in the fact that you could read him so well. Where you felt grateful to be able to know when he was upset, or mad, or grieving, because you could do something about it. You could take his hand and calm him down, press a kiss to the sharp wrinkles in his grimace. 

Now, it was just painful. A curse. You knew he was hurting, you knew he was raging, and there wasn’t a damn thing you could do about it. At some point you had lost that connection with him, and it haunted you. The ghost of what you once had was relentless, following you both in nightmares and waking.

The truth was you weren’t here to ask for his help. Not really. 

You were here because there was a small part of you that hoped he had regretted how it ended. That the ghost haunted him just the same, and if he could change it he would at least try.

You were very clearly wrong.

You slam an old receipt down on the table with your address and phone number scribbled across it.

“If you decide to get your head out of your ass anytime soon, let me know.“ you say sharply before turning on your heel and walking out the door.

[oshinsimblr]

hey friends! i was unable to post all of my early access content bc i'm sick. but i was able to post this video, which in my honest opinion are the major features in this 'romance' pack.

IS IT WORTH $40?

DEPENDS ON HOW BADLY YOU NEED THESE FEATURES TBH.

this review is brought to you by the ea creator network. all of my opinions are my own. i must disclose this per FTC guidelines #ad.

*i do not cover everything in the pack, only the things that stood out for me lol. i'm sorry i'm not used to doing full reviews up here

the attraction system is helpful and expands dating (which is great, but we've had mods that could do this for some time: pick your poison). the romantic satisfaction is the star here. i love being able to create one sided relationships and actually take care of our romantic relationships with sims. this is a valuable feature for me!

cupid's corner is a nice "hey i don't need this mod" anymore type of feature. prior to this i was using lumpinou's meet & mingle which allowed me to meet with sims (platonic and romantic). i dislike that you can not write custom bio's for your sims. i love the way the app functions, i love saving sims and adding them to our rel. panel - and getting to know them through the phone first. i wish we could've defined our sims favorite music/foods/color etc.

i'll admit it, i'm a sucker for dynamics. family dynamics from the sims 4 growing together are so good (minus the fact that everyone wants to be f*cking jokesters after one joke lol). but i love them! they really do impact my sims relationships. the different romance dynamics are interesting. for example: a strained romance dynamic makes it VERY hard for your sims to communicate. it's like your sims will randomly hug each other, but then 5 secs later they're upset. they want to love each other so badly but they can't lol.

now onto random things that excited me. you can go to cupid's couples counseling. i did not know we'd actually be able to answer questions. these sims had a strained romance dynamic and it was so bad - the therapist suggested we come back. but when i tried to schedule it again, they were booked and i had to wait to schedule another appt. which is great, because in the meantime your sims are going downhill fast and you have to keep the peace until then (if you choose).

there are new pop ups and invites. there's even one for a reality dating show lol. you can turn these off in game settings. (if you're wondering, mr. landgrabb never showed up at the motel he wanted to meet at. he stood my sim up. don't judge me, i thought there was simoleons involved).

new crafted dates are cool. you can choose whatever you want to do on them. there's new social interactions based on the activities you choose. you can also invite other sims to these (double dates woohoo!) you can also create crafted hangouts. i like these, i got this cute picture as a reward after a succesful crafted hangout. if you're familiar with mws weddings, it's the same idea. except this works well and isn't as glitchy lol..

another random feature i never needed, but now i find it useful. you can create your own relationship label that will appear in the rel. panel

it's unfair how gorgeous this world is... because there's nothing to do. this is all set dressing.

you can declare your love here.. at the wall of love.

you can buy flowers or edible sweet treats at this shop in the background.

you can get local food here. there are 3 new dishes and spicy hot chocolate. now, i'm not mexican (the world is inspired by mexico) BUT 3 new foods isn't cutting it for me. technically only 2, because one is a vegan option. no pozole, enchiladas, guacamole, tamales?? i'm a foodie, so i take full offense to that.

you can woohoo or sleep at the motel.

you can travel.

go fishing or enjoy a swim.

sit here and chat.

view this for a moodlet.

travel again.

check in a penthouse.

there's a nightclub, gym and lounge. but you get the idea.. there's nothing culturally unique about this world which makes me sad. no festivals? i'd love seeing a mariachi band play at the lounge. something. otherwise, keep the world and add more features right? i would've loved table proposals (sims 2 anyone?). or frisky couch makeouts. so many missed opportunities here.

there's more i could say but i feel like this post should be a little helpful in deciding wether this is a pack you need right now, or wait for a sale! i personally love having a complete colection, so i've always wanted every expansion. though i recieve the pack for free, i owe you my honesty and i want to start doing blog/written content because it's easier to process my thoughts through the excitment. i will enjoy this pack, i do like it, and only time will tell as i integrate it with my current gameplay. i hope this was helpful!

* if you remember, use my code OSHINSIMS at checkout if you decide to purchase this pack. that way, at least i get a % of your purchase and EA doesn't get all your coins 😉

thank you! just keeping simming, always stay wavy, peace x

[posh--bee]

beneath the sleeping stars || Spencer Reid

pairing → Spencer Reid x Reader

summary → On the way home from yet another case on the jet, you and your boyfriend Spencer take advantage that your coworkers are all peacefully sleeping to have a little bit of sweet and innocent alone time, taking chances and talking about both of you getting hurt during the case.

warnings → early seasons!spencer, shy!reader, bau!reader, established relationship but it’s all very new still, they’re just little anxious beans, just pure tooth-rotting fluff, they’re so adorable your honor, minor injuries, no descriptions or pronouns used for the reader, no y/n used

author’s note → This whole thing was inspired by this post from @multifandomangel. I started writing this story immediately after I saw the post but it took me a while to come back around to it and finish it. But now it’s done and I’m very happy with how cute and fluffy it turned out :3 Let me know what you think about it <3 (If you saw this fic before just ignore it, tumblr just likes to put a content label on it only on the android app and it drives me crazy! Hopfully this post doesn't get flagged AGAIN.)

word count → 3.2k

masterlist(s)

You sit next to Spencer on what the team has dubbed “his” couch on the BAU’s jet, currently on the way home to the FBI’s headquarters after having solved yet another case on the other side of the country, absentmindedly staring at the book in your hands you act like you’re reading.

The words on the page you haven’t turned in over five minutes stare back at you unblinkingly, but you pay them no mind, instead peeking over the edge of your book to inconspicuously observe the rest of your teammates relaxing in their seats. Hotch is at the front of the jet in a single seat with his arms crossed over his chest and eyes closed while Morgan, Emily and JJ sit around the table across from you. JJ’s head rests on Emily’s shoulder who in turn has her cheek squished to the top of the blonde’s hair, soft breaths leaving her parted lips. Morgan on the other hand rests against a pillow pressed to the wall of the jet, his headphones still on and Rossi, who sits behind him, has his legs stretched out over two seats with his eyes closed as well.

It's perfectly quiet on the jet except for the subtle hum of the aircraft’s engines paired with what little you can hear of Morgan’s music and the occasional soft snore coming from one or another person sitting around you.

With bated breath you wait for another minute or two to be absolutely certain about what you’re eagerly hoping for—

They’re all fast asleep.

A smile tugs at your lips and you slowly close your book and let it glide to the floor soundlessly before gently nudging Spencer’s leg with your foot.

The lanky genius next to you stirs and you immediately feel bad for rousing him from his slumber so rudely, but the feeling abruptly dissipates and is replaced by a flutter of butterfly wings in your belly when he gives you a sleepy smile, one hand coming up to rub his tired eyes.

“Hi,” he greets you quietly, his voice a little deeper than it normally is and it embarrassingly takes you a second to answer him.

“Hi yourself,” you manage, matching his soft tone to not disturb the quiet of the jet as it takes you closer to your home through the night sky.

You smile at each other shyly, starting a new round of your regular game of Who will break eye contact first? that you both lose at the same time. An amused huff escapes you at your own antics and you look back to Spencer who is already grinning at you, his cheeks glowing with an adorable blush even in the dimmed lights of the cabin.

He’s so beautiful, you think, and you want to tell him as much, but the words get stuck in your throat like you already knew they would.

Instead you ask him, “How’s your head?”

Your eyes dart to the white butterfly stitch on his temple that a paramedic has competently placed there only a few hours before because of the scuffle your recent unsub had caused before his eventual arrest.

Spencer shrugs but the smile on his lips gets a little brighter, his fingers shy of touching his wound before lowering his hand and placing it on the down on the couch, right next to where your own hand is resting on the cushion.

“It doesn’t hurt,” he tells you, his hand inching closer to yours. “It’s just a small wound, don’t worry.”

“That's good. I’m glad.”

You watch his pinky reaching out for yours and with your heart beating excitedly in your chest you meet him halfway, your fingers sweetly wrapping around each other. Your cheeks burn from the innocent touch while Spencer quietly clears his throat, trying to hide the lovestruck grin on his lips but failing adorably at it—much like yourself, you imagine.

“What about your finger?” he wants to know then and you look down to your other hand resting in your lap, one finger taped to the one beside to keep it still and in a natural position while healing, also a courtesy of the unsub’s messy arrest.

“All good,” you tell him truthfully, after carefully testing your hand’s remaining mobility. “It doesn’t hurt anymore. And luckily, it’s not even my dominant hand.”

Spencer, of course, already knows this but nods in understanding anyway.

“I’m glad,” he repeats back at you and the look in his brown eyes is nothing short of adoring. You have the urge to hide from his gaze, it’s that overwhelming, and eventually you need to avert your eyes to regain even a semblance of composure before you can face him again.

He gives your pinky a quick squeeze when you do and you feel the smile on your face grow even bigger. You let yourself sink further into the comfortable cushions of the couch then, enjoying the quiet and content atmosphere of the jet, the rare opportunity of being close to Spencer like this, openly showing affection like this, as small as it may seem, when the two of you are at work, all thanks to your softly snoring colleagues.

But you can’t fully relax, even though the exhaustion of the case is rapidly catching up with you, making your limbs feel heavy and your movements slow and sluggish. Right underneath your tiredness is an undercurrent feeling of nervousness and excitement that you can’t ignore, that keeps reminding you that you woke Spencer up for something more than a few whispered words between the two of you and pinkie-holding.

Slowly, you straighten up again, squaring your shoulders and ready to seize this opportunity the rest of the BAU agents have so graciously presented you with. Your heart instantly picks up speed and you pause for a moment, mentally hyping yourself up to just ask your literal boyfriend this simple question, but the tiny bit of confidence you could scrape together instantly evaporates the moment your eyes meet his.

“Do you maybe—want to lie down, Spence?” you ask quietly, your heart in your throat making it difficult to form the words around. “It’s probably more—more comfortable than sitting the whole flight...”

Your voice trails off at the end and you mentally scold yourself for it, having gone over your words a hundred times in your head before you even woke Spencer up but still you couldn’t get it right when it mattered. Spencer just looks at you for a moment before shaking his head, his eyes showing nothing but kindness and you try your hardest not to let your disappointment show at his easy rejection, your ears burning in embarrassment.

“I’m comfortable like this, don’t worry.” He gives your pinky another squeeze that you can’t quite appreciate at the moment, but nod to show that you’re listening. You’re always listening to him. “I like being next to you like this and anyway, we will land in about an hour and eight minutes. So you really don’t have to get up from the couch for my sake.”

When you don’t answer him after his words hung in the space between you for a few moments too long, his shoulders tense and his face falls just enough for you to notice, a tight-lipped smile replacing the soft and relaxed one from just seconds ago.

“That’s okay… right?”

He sounds heartbreakingly unsure of himself now, afraid to have somehow said the wrong thing and ruin this moment between the two of you and you pull yourself together to quickly reassure him, your heart rate spiking in alarm.

“Of course that’s okay Spence! Absolutely okay! I like being next to you like this as well.”

Your voice is a little too loud and too shrill in your need to rectify your words so you force yourself to take a deep breath, not wanting to wake up your peacefully sleeping colleagues by any means.

“It’s just not what I meant,” you continue, your voice softening. You give him an encouraging smile and don’t shy away from the intense eye contact when Spencer cautiously searches your face, honest and unguarded. He finds the reassurance he’s looking for there and after a few short moments he relaxes again, a hesitant smile pulling at his lips.

“What did you mean then?”

Your gaze falls to the worn sneakers on your feet at his question and your thumb begins to absentmindedly fiddle with medical tape on your injured hand, fighting against an overwhelming wave of anxiety that crashes into you but after a few calming deep breaths you force your way through it.

“Because the others are all asleep, I thought—I meant that you could lie down, with your head… on my lap, if you want to.”

Now that the words are out in the open your idea doesn’t sound as brilliant and cute as it was in your head—actually, it sounds absolutely stupid, and oh no, why would you say something like that?!

You fight the urge to just jump up and run for the plane’s toilet to hide in there until you have landed safely at Quantico and instead risk a glance at Spencer out of the corner of your eye, your heart jackhammering away in your chest.

Spencer stares at you with such an adorably befuddled expression that would have soothed your anxiety all at once any other time, but now it just makes you curl into yourself even more, almost missing how the blush on his cheeks gets deeper in real time, spreading to his ears and even his neck.

“Or don’t!” you immediately backpedal, mortified and panicking, mentally screaming at yourself for ever thinking this would be a good idea. “You absolutely don’t have to! I just thought—”

“No, I’d like to!” Spencer suddenly squeaks, effectively cutting you off. The two of you stare at each other for a few seconds following his words, neither of you knowing what to do now that your little misunderstanding is resolved.

“Okay. Good,” you eventually say just to have something to fill the stubborn silence that settled between the two of you. “That’s—yeah.”

You clear your throat and press your lips together as your brain is apparently having difficulties providing your mouth with something resembling full sentences and give Spencer a tight smile before reluctantly letting go of his pinkie. You move closer to the armrest by your side to give him enough room to lie down at least somewhat comfortably, and after it’s clear that you are both at a loss for what to do again, you awkwardly pat your thighs, hoping that it’s enough encouragement for Spencer.

He looks at you with comical deer-caught-in-the-headlights eyes but after taking a deep and seemingly calming breath he starts to lie down hesitantly. It takes the two of you a few uncoordinated and clumsy moments to sort yourselves out on the small couch, but eventually, between whispered apologies and pointedly avoiding each other’s eyes, you manage.

Now you stiffly sit on the jet’s couch with Spencer’s head resting lightly on your thighs like he is afraid of putting too much of his weight on you, while he is taking up the rest of the space, his back facing the cabin and your still slumbering teammates. He is also far from relaxed, you can feel how tense his whole body is and you notice that his eyes are shut tightly too when you glance down at him.

Despite dating for a few months already and being best friends before that the awkwardness and tentativeness between you and Spencer persists stubbornly. Unfortunately—sometimes frustratingly—that’s neither surprising nor unusual. Both you and Spencer are naturally shy and introverted, anxious even, and not at all confident in your social skills and interpersonal relationships. The fact that neither of you was in a serious relationship before and is more than a little inexperienced when it comes to intimacy doesn’t really help either. You can easily count on your own ten fingers how often you actually held Spencer’s hand, much less cuddled with him or kissed him. You want to be closer to him, at least in the privacy of your home or away from prying eyes (most likely belonging to nosy but well-meaning coworkers), want to create and share special memories and him, and you know that Spencer feels the same way. The two of you just need more time to get comfortable and confident with this new chapter of your relationship. But that’s okay, you know that. Eventually, you will get there, at a pace you both are comfortable with.

But until then you’ll have to deal with your heart almost beating out of your chest while Spencer is trying to relax on your lap, a dizzying mix of happiness and anxiety and every emotion in between swirling in your chest. It makes your hands shake and hard to focus on anything else than the euphoric but frightening feeling of having your boyfriend—somewhat comfortably—cuddling up to you. You still feel a little silly about how clumsy you asked him for this but you were rewarded for your uncharacteristic bravery by the comforting weight of Spencer leaning against you, his warmth seeping into your skin, a pleasant and blissful shiver running down your spine.

You love Spencer, it’s the only thing on your mind when you look down to him lying on your lap, and surprisingly the thought doesn’t terrify you. It’s the easiest truth you ever accepted and the sense of calmness that follows has everything to do with the fact that you’re in a relationship with someone as kind and considerate as Spencer.

But you won’t be able to admit this to him anytime soon, you know that, so instead you say something easier, something lighter, but equally as true.

“I don’t like seeing you hurt, Spence. I’m so happy you’re okay.”

He blinks up at you when your whispered words register in his mind, his brown eyes impossible soft, impossible adoring. You let the gentle caress of butterfly wings fluttering in your chest and belly wash over you, your world narrowing down to this moment between Spencer and you. Everything else vanished into the background, the jet, the team, even your anxious and overthinking mind quieting enough for you to be completely present in this precious moment with your favorite person in the world.

As if moving on its own your hand finds its way into Spencer’s hair, fingers carefully, experimentally carding through his silky curls that you’re delighted to find are exactly as soft as you always thought they were.

Spencer jumps at the unexpected touch but not even a second later he’s completely relaxed against you, looking like an extremely content and comically overgrown cat, happily purring in your lap.

With a sigh, his eyes fall closed in pure bliss, murmuring into the comfortable and peaceful quietness between you, “This feels nice.”

“I’m glad,” you answer in a whisper, dutifully continuing with your ministrations, burning this moment into your mind, forever.

Without opening his eyes Spencer goes on, your name on his lips, “I was really scared for a moment during the arrest. When the unsub lashed out at you, I think my heart almost stopped in my chest.”

With a sympathetic smile and nod that Spencer can’t see you bring your hand to his face, caressing his warm and soft cheek with one only slightly shaking finger.

“I know what you mean. I felt the same when you came to help me and the unsub hit you,” you admit, the shameful guilt welling up inside you leaving a bitter taste on your tongue all of a sudden. Because that’s how Spencer got hurt, rushing to your side to assist you.

But before you can even begin to spiral, Spencer’s eyes fly open, his gaze fierce when you lock downcast eyes with him.

“It wasn’t your fault, please don’t think that. I’m always going to look out for you, you know that, right? You’re important to me.”

His voice is firm, insistent, leaving no room for arguments, no room for doubts or guilt. A shaky exhale pushes past your lips and you give him a grateful smile, having no choice but to believe his words. Not when he’s looking at you with complete and utter conviction, not letting your mind torment you for even a second because of what happened during the arrest.

“Of course I know that, Spence,” you assure him, cupping his jaw. “And I hope you know that I’ll always come to your rescue too.”

His face softens immediately, subconsciously nuzzling into your hand, his lips unintentionally brushing against your palm when he says, “I do.”

Your breathing hitches noticeably at the faint touch and Spencer himself turns to stone on top of you, his large, panicked eyes darting over your face. He’s just about to launch into a distressed apology that is really not necessary when you lean down to stop him by pressing a featherlight kiss to his temple, just shy of his wound.

You surprise yourself with your action and now can do nothing but stare helplessly down at your boyfriend who only mirrors your expression back at you, his cheeks turning cherry red in an instant. But before you can now stumble your way through an apology, Spencer takes your injured hand in his without meeting your eyes and brings it to his lips, softly kissing the tips of your fingers.

He quickly hides his face in your stomach after letting go of your hand, leaving you perplexed and speechless, the tips of your ears and the apples of your cheeks burning. And just like that neither of you is able to speak up or look at the other again, both of you left to battle with their own bashfulness for the rest of the flight.

It’s probably for the best that in your painfully adorable awkwardness, you and Spencer fail to notice how your supposedly sleeping teammates are in fact very much not asleep at the moment, shamelessly enjoying their favorite workplace romance unfolding before them live and in color, their reactions to it varying from person to person.

JJ hides her tickled grin in the crook of Emily’s neck who in turn has to fight hard for her composure as to not reveal all of their sneaky nosiness, her whole body shaking with the effort of it. Morgan groans fondly, the noise muffled by his pillow, wondering if his eardrums will survive Garcia’s screeching when he tells her about how sickly adorable Spencer and you acted on the flight back to Quantico. Rossi on the other hand rolls his eyes hard enough to see the back of his own skull but the smile on his lips betrays him, muttering an amused “amore giovane” under his breath.

And even Hotch has an almost noticeable proud smile on his face—but Spencer and you still won’t get around the little talk your supervisor has planned for you about your relationship next thing tomorrow morning.

But all of this is lost on you and Spencer, tucked away in your own little world of adorably awkward puppy love which is for the best. Because neither of you would be able to handle the embarrassment from the realization that you weren’t as unobserved as you thought you were.

Thank you so much for reading <3 Likes, reblogs and comments are highly appreciated!

Feel free to hop into my inbox and talk to me ✨

dividers by @/cafekitsune

[yumandou]

heyy

could you do an idol!maki x idol!reader fic (reader is a 07' liner) and has recently debuted under hybe

both the groups start having promotions tgt (performances, variety shows, rehersals .etc) and maki starts developing infatuation towards the reader

Idol!Maki x Idol!reader

The moon's warnings: Fluff, reader is '07 liner so a year younger than Maki, in bullet form (I'm so sorry it wasn't a fic like you asked ☹️), no word count cause I wanted to do this so anon doesn't have to wait any longer <3, I use Nicho and Euijoo because yes, English is not my first language so maybe bad grammar and wrong spellings ahead!! Reader is really hard-working and lowkey a perfectionist, reader is also gender-neutral, let me know if I missed anything!!

Message from the moon: I'm so sorry to this anon cause they had to wait and this might be pretty bad hahehshshahah, I did it in bullet form because I do not have the motivation and time to make this into a one-shot (maybe I will in the future) anyways I hope you still like it! My requests are still open for soft thoughts/fic requests.

• Maki first heard about the new group of trainees at HYBE, or now known as YX Labels (request took a long time the ask had the old company name 😮‍💨), and wasn't too interested. He wanted to focus on his group's upcoming comeback.

• Your group's debut was almost at the same time as &TEAM's new single, which meant that your group is promoting at the same time as &TEAM. Since your group was new and needed some publicity, the company wanted your group to have a collab with &TEAM.

• The first day of rehearsals for the collab, the members of &TEAM were already waiting at the practice room, getting a head start on stretches. Maki was stretching with Nicho and Jo when Euijoo called everyone to gather since the new group just arrived. The members of &TEAM lined up to greet your group and you all did the same under your leader's/your (if you are the leader) instructions, each one of your members introduced and it was finally your turn.

• The moment your group stepped in, Maki was already pretty interested in you. As mentioned before, he heard about the new trainees back then and heard some words about you. When it was your turn to introduce yourself, you mentioned that you are fluent in English too. Maki was interested and wanted to know more about why you are fluent in English, did you learn the language or do you have a different nationality like him?

• When practice started, Maki noticed that you were hard-working and eager to learn from your seniors, immediately asking K for help when you're having trouble with the choreography or asking Nicho and Euijoo for advice since you are also a rapper (yes, you are a rapper in this).

• During one of the breaks, you even approached Maki to ask for help with your vocals. Maki also found out that you can rap and sing well, just like him. The two of you also talked about the more personal stuff, he got to ask you why you were fluent in English. The two of you also found out multiple similarities between the two of you: you both enjoyed burritos, doing random trends and posting them on tiktok, your love for dogs and animals in general, you two are both very active on social media, etc...

• After the rehearsals for the collab, you and Maki started to develop a friendship. You two exchanged personal social media accounts like Instagram (if you are allowed to) and the two of you would even have some conversation and one of you would mention a new meme or make a reference about a new meme and the other would immediately get it and you two would just laugh about the new memes going around.

• Maki would deny to himself that he was just seeing you as a friend, that's it. But Nicho would definitely think otherwise, he noticed how Maki would look at you with eyes of adoration or how Maki suddenly goes silent when a Luné mentions the collab your group had with them during a live.

• Then your group started a content where your senior groups like Enhypen or Katseye or other groups from the company would come over and film a content where you and your group members can ask for advice about a certain part of being an idol over some snacks (yes, this is inspired by Kickflip's content because I think the idea of this content is super cool and also go stan Kickflip), and one of the episodes is when you &TEAM are your guests.

• Your group members asked some questions but it was mostly you who was asking the questions, which just showed your determination as an idol which Maki really admired. After the filming, Maki even noticed that you were the first to start cleaning the packages of food which now showed him that you also like to keep places clean like him. Maki helped you clean up while your members and the rest of the members of &TEAM purposely let the two of you clean up, not because they were lazy to do so or what, but because they all thought that this would help the two of you form a stronger bond and a stronger friendship...maybe something even more in the future when the two of you are out of the idol spotlight.

Another message from the moon: Hey guyss! What do y'all think of this?? Please let me know since I'm really new to writing actually and please send me some more askss! I promise I will work on them, I just have to find the time to do so 😞

[mjolnirswriststrap]

Just Another Notch

Masterlist Part 2/?? Part 3

Bucky Barnes x Plus Size F!Reader

Summary: If Bucky thinks his charms will work on you, then you’re gonna put up one hell of a fight to prove him wrong.

Word Count: 1,711

Warnings: None, but will contain explicit content 18+, in future chapters, read at your own discretion.

Your alarm didn’t wake you, it was a loud knocking at your door. You jump up, tapping your phone screen to see that it was only 6am. Now you’re gonna be groggy all morning, your alarm was set for 6:45. You trudge to your door, ready to rip down whoever it was that woke you up. When you open the door you see Bucky with bright eyes, two coffees in hand. You quickly read the label and see that it’s your favorite cafe in Brooklyn. How did he get coffee from there this early?

“Good morning.” He chirps out, reaching one of the paper cups forward. You cross your arms in front of you, refusing the coffee. “How can I help you?” You say curtly. You take in his attire, he was ready for training. You could almost laugh, him and Steve take their sponsorships too seriously, can’t be seen exercising in anything other than Under Armor.

“I still felt bad about last night and thought, maybe I could repay you by helping you get a head start today.” The smirk on his lips did nothing to ease your agitated mood. “I said we’re even, it’s fine.” You say, wondering if he was being genuine. It was far too early for all of this. You rub your sleep filled eyes, pushing your hair behind your ears. “Anything else?” You say, wanting to get some more sleep before the day of literal hell you were about to endure. Physically, you were the apex, but mentally and strategically, not so much.

You couldn’t wield a gun, you’d been studying a makeshift dictionary of all the military terms Steve and Bucky say during missions. You couldn’t take directions. Besides overpowering the strongest guy in Kansas during a championship, you’d never learned how to combat fight. You have no clue where to hit someone or how hard so you don’t do fatal damage. You were written up on your first mission.

Your adrenaline was pumping and you thought the gunman was bigger than what he was, causing you to dent his chest in, instantly killing him. The punch was meant to lay him out, not kill him. You’d been reminded time and time again during initial training that the goal was to subdue, shield rehabilitates these criminals.

So now training was mainly a mental game for you. Sizing people up, you were no use against magicians or witches but physically, you worked hard to discern people’s capabilities. You’d never trained with Bucky or Steve before. You’d never fought against a super soldier, you couldn’t even imagine their strength. Therefore, you’d never opted to train with them.

“No, I’m sorry for waking you.” He says, his eyes tell a completely different story. But you hear some sincerity in his voice. Maybe you were being too harsh to him. He really hadn’t done anything wrong, yet. You were the one who assumed he was drunk, you were the one who enjoyed him innocently helping you clean his mess. If you put aside all your wild ideas, Bucky had actually been very nice to you.

While no one had made any progress in talking to you or really even introducing themselves, Bucky was willing to sit with you and enjoy a bowl of cereal, alone. No other outside force willing him to be there. He’d apologized after spilling milk on you, helped clean it. He wasn’t even looking, and you were speed walking behind him, what if it truly was just an accident. Here you were being rude to the only person who’s shown you kindness.

You wanted to hit yourself. Mentally you were painting your back porch red. Guilt was slowly filling you as you watch him drop his head, nodding as if he’s finally realizing the situation, you wanted him to leave. But not anymore, “Let me get dressed, 5 minutes!” You wait for him to look up at you before you close the door in his face, you could see his smile return, but this time it looked triumphant and genuine.

You want to play this game with him, you knew that much. So why not make a big move and wear your new sports bra set with matching spandex shorts. You’d never worn just a sports bra, and always wore leggings. Your best friend convinced you that you looked good in it, so Nike gladly took your money. This would surely prove your suspicion, were his intentions innocent?

You looked in the mirror, pushing and pulling at your breast in the tight spandex. Your cleavage had to be perfect for this to work. You rolled down the waistband of the shorts, letting it show off your curves. You run to the bathroom to do your morning routine. Walking out of your door in less than the 5 minutes you estimated. You had no idea why you had such a pep in your step. As if you were rushing back to him.

“Thanks.” You say taking the coffee from his hands. He stands there frozen as you turn for the elevator, he watches your ponytail sway across your shoulders, then he lets his eyes travel down, to see your back dimples on display. This one he would fight for, his improvised plan didn’t work last night, he’ll admit his ego was hurt a little by his advances not working. So he gave you another chance with coffee this morning.

It almost didn’t work, he was showing real sadness when you rejected him again, but out of self pity, not because you were being rude. But it worked, and you folded. Judging by the way you’re dressed, he knew you were playing along with him. He would win in the end, he always does. Besides, you’d be an adversary opponent and the best prize.

You wish you could’ve told him black coffee wasn’t really your style, but you had too much pride, sipping it empty on the way down to the training floor. Bucky would probably go left to the gym, and you’ll go right, to the simulation room. It was handy for someone like you. Training with real people was a liability, so holograms it was. “See you later.” You nod to him.

“Where you going? I thought we were training together.” He sounds disappointed. “Oh you meant like the two of us? I thought it was a wake up call, not an invite.” You scratch the back of your neck, kind of embarrassed. “I figured you could use the change of scenery.” He laughs.

You follow him into the gym, a place you’d only been once, during the orientation tour. It was huge, needing the capacity to handle super hero’s being thrown around. Bucky walks over to a bench, setting down his coffee cup and shedding his windbreaker jacket. You toss your empty cup in the trash can beside the door, slowly walking up to him. “So what did you have in mind?” You ask, nervous as to what exactly you had gotten yourself into.

“First some basic warm up drills, then I figured I could help you with that strength depth perception.” He grabs two jump ropes from the wall and tosses one your way. “Fury was worried about you at the last meeting.” You roll your eyes, of course he was.

“I didn’t know you discussed me at meetings.” You say, starting to jump rope. He joins you a second later, going miles faster than you. “We discuss everything, especially things that could be a liability.”. He wasn’t wrong, it rubbed you wrong that you couldn’t defend yourself at these meetings. But you understood why they did it, you killed a man.

“Right.” You huff out, stopping and dropping the jump rope, you had no endurance. Bucky continues for another minute, the rope turning into a blur as it whizzed around him. You ran the track around the perimeter of the gym, till you legs felt like jelly. Again, Bucky kept going, literally running laps around you.

When he came to a jog in place in front of you, you took in the fact that no sweat had formed on his brow, meanwhile you left a puddle in the floor when you stood up. “Okay, let’s start with defense.” He brings his fist to face level and you match his stance. “We both know you have offense covered. But what about protecting yourself. Other people are strong too.” He made a good point.

You had beginners luck, dodging the first punch Bucky threw at your stomach. The second, not so much. You suck in a breath when his metal fist makes contact with your rib. “You’re supposed to block!” He sounds upset, like he was the one who just got hurt. “Yeah I got that.” You wheeze out, dropping to your knees, clutching your stomach.

Just as you’ve almost composed yourself the door to the gym swings open. “Are you ready for complete destruction, son?” It’s Steve walking in, but his face immediately drops when he sees you. “Excuse me.” He’s obviously embarrassed. You just look at Bucky and try to hold in a laugh. “Seriously?” You whisper, his cheeks are red but he nods.

“I’ll take that as my cue.” You say, waddling over to the vending machine in the corner. The blue on the Aquafina label reflected in your eye. You’re gonna die if you don’t get a drink. You tap your Apple Watch to the card reader, typing in A5, as you watch your water bottle be mechanically maneuvered around through a glass window you hear whispering. “She needs a snack already?”

You don’t know who said it, just that someone did, you didn’t turn around. Preferring to pretend it didn’t happen, you grab the water from the machine, drinking the whole thing in a couple chugs. You smash it between your hands, completely flattening it to the width of paper. It was loud, the cracking of the plastic, it silenced their hushed words. As you toss it into the trash can beside the door, you turn around and address both men.

“Thirst and hunger are two different things, wouldn’t you say?” And you leave, pushing past Natasha in the hallway as you make your way to the simulation room.

Taglist: @cjand10 @winterslove1917 @honestlywork @calwitch

[willofthequill]

Hi there! I'm Witch! Welcome to my manic mish mosh! Here you will find my fanfics and also get to enjoy (and probably be traumatized by) the weird (and very horny) stuff that I share!

Below the cut you will find my Masterlist. All links will take you to my AO3. It is organized by fandom. For specific fandom click on their links to see all related works. SFW (🧁) + NSFW (🔞) ratings and pairings are listed for each fic. Series and Multi-Chapter fics are labeled as such. (Click on their links to see all works related).

If you prefer to read my fics on Tumblr search #WOTQ fics

Please note that I have changed my name from sandwitchstories to willofthequill!

Fandoms I currently write for: Jujutsu Kaisen (JJK) and Demon Slayer (KNY)

Other Fandoms I have works for: Fairy Tail and Buddy Daddies

🔞 MDNI with ANY NSFW fics and posts 🔞

Banner, header and pfp by me - DO NOT USE

Dividers by @sweetmelodygraphics

WillOfTheQuill Complete Master List:

Jukutsu Kaisen (JJK) Fics

Satoru Gojo

Kintsugi (Satoru Gojo x Y/N - NSFW - Winner of 100 shares poll) 🔞

Ryomen Sukuna

On Going Series! Daddy Duty (All of my Dad!Sukuna and Mouse's Mini-Verse works in one location! Dad!Sukuna x Y/N - SFW) 🧁

Chance Encounter - Series-Parts 1-3 (Sukuna x Y/N - NSFW) 🔞

For Better and For Worse (Sukuna x Y/N - NSFW) 🔞

But When It Comes To You (Sukuna x Y/N - NSFW) 🔞

My Monster (Sukuna x Y/N - NSFW - Kinktober 2024 - Day 2 Prompt: Monster)🔞

Spoiled (Sukuna x Y/N - NSFW - Kinktober 2024 - Week 3 Prompt: Massage)🔞

Stoned and Boned (Sukuna x Y/N - NSFW) - NEW 1/19/2025🔞

Demon Slayer (KNY) Fics

Kyojuro Rengoku

We're Gonna Fly To The Sun (Kyojuro Rengoku x Y/N - New Baby Fluff- SFW) 🧁

New Update- 5.11.2025- The Crone of Purgatory (Kyojuro Rengoku x Bri Tsugikuni - High Fantasy witches/were species- will have NSFW Content - Multi Chapter- Available Now: Ch 4/10) 🔞

I Will Wait For You (Kyojuro Rengoku x Y/N- ANGST & NSFW) 🔞

Shining Starlet (Kyojuro Rengoku x Y/N- NSFW)🔞

Gratitude and Gratification (Kyojuro Rengoku x Y/N- NSFW) 🔞

Carnal Delights (Kyojuro Rengoku x Y/N x the Uzuis - NSFW) 🔞

Mistletoe and Idle Hands (Kyojuro Rengoku x Y/N- NSFW)🔞

The Sweet or The Spicy (Kyojuro Rengoku x Y/N- NSFW) 🔞

Red Light Special (Kyojuro Rengoku x Y/N- NSFW) 🔞

Five Seconds (Kyojuro Rengoku x Y/N- NSFW) 🔞

What He Likes (Kyojuro Rengoku x Y/N- NSFW) 🔞

Stress Relief (Kyojuro Rengoku x Y/N - NSFW) 🔞

Challenge Accepted (Kyojuro Rengoku x Y/N - NSFW) 🔞

Safe In The Arms Of Love (Kyojuro Rengoku x Y/N - NSFW) 🔞

Hot For Teacher (Kyojuro Rengoku x Y/N - NSFW)🔞

The Frog(tied) Princess (Kyojuro Rengoku x Y/N - NSFW - Sequel to Hot For Teacher but can be read alone)🔞

Grown Up Birthday Blues (Kyojuro Rengoku x Y/N - Happy Birthday, Kyojuro! - NSFW)🔞

Wildfire (Kyojuro Rengoku x Y/N - NSFW)🔞

Fools Rush In (Kyojuro Rengoku x Y/N - NSFW) 🔞

Love At First Bite (Kyojuro Rengoku x Y/N - NSFW - Kinktober 2024 Day 1: Vampire) 🔞

The Reward (Kyojuro Rengoku x Y/N - NSFW - Kinktober 2024 - Day 18: Free Use)🔞

The Battery Incident (Kyojuro Rengoku x Y/N - NSFW - Kinktober 2024 - Week 4: Mutual Masterbation/Toys) 🔞

Paused - Modern Muses ( Kyojuro Rengoku x Bri Uzui -Yakuza AU - will have NSFW Content - Multi Chapter- Available Now: Ch 2/?)🔞

Paused - Forever In Love (Kyojuro Rengoku x Female OC - Kimetsu Academy AU - Contains NSFW - Multi-Chapter) 🔞

Paused - Twin Flames (Kyojuro Rengoku x KNY OC, Rengoku Demon AU - NSFW - Multi-Chapter)🔞

Sanemi Shinazguawa

But What If You Did? (Sanemi Shinazugawa x Y/N- Angst &NSFW) - (Sequel to 'I Will Wait For You' but can be read as a stand alone one-shot)🔞

The Best Present (Sanemi Shinazugawa x Y/N - Happy Birthday, Sanemi! - NSFW)🔞

Accidentally Happily Ever After (Sanemi Shinazugawa x Y/N Surprise Pregnancy - NSFW - Three Chapters- Completed) 🔞

Say It (Sanemi Shinazugawa x Y/N - NSFW)🔞

A Cure for Restlessness (Sanemi Shinazugawa x Y/N - NSFW) 🔞

Temptation - (Sanemi Shinazugawa x Y/N - NSFW - Kinktober 2024 Day 3: Costume) 🔞

Shinjuro Rengoku

A Father's Love (Shinjuro Rengoku x Y/N - SFW) - Head cannons about Shinjuro getting a 2nd chance 🧁

The Shy Guy (Shinjuro Rengoku x Y/N - NSFW) 🔞

Buddy Daddies

Bitey Daddies (Vampire AU- SFW)🧁

I'm no hero, and I'm not made of stone (Kazuki Kurusu x Rei Suwa - SFW)🧁

I Choose You (Kazuki Kurusu x Rei Suwa - SFW)🧁

Jump Around (Rei Suwa - SFW)🧁

The Diabolical Grandpa (Kazuki Kurusu x Rei Suwa SFW)🧁

Fairy Tail

Erza Scarlet

A Game of Facades (Erza Scarlet x Jellal Fernandes - Evil Erza AU- Event: Fairy Tail Reverse Bang 2022 - CW: implied sexual content)🧁

3G: Gay Girls Ghost Hunting (Erza Scarlett x MiraJane Strauss - for the Fairy Tail Reverse Bang 2022- SFW)🧁

Laxus Dreyar

The Little Spoon (Laxus Dreyar x Orga Nanagear - SFW)🧁

Electric Love (Laxus Dreyar x Freed Justine - SFW)🧁

Sting Eucliffe and Rogue Cheney

The Story Of Us (Sting Eucliffe x Rogue Cheney- SFW - Series has been completed )🧁

A Little Bit Older On This Roller Coaster (Sting Eucliffe x Rogue Cheney NSFW)🔞

Groomzilla (Sting Eucliffe x Rogue Cheney NSFW)🔞

You're the night, You're the light (Sting Eucliffe x Rogue Cheney NSFW)🔞

Totally Worth It (Sting Eucliffe x Rogue Cheney NSFW)🔞

Simply Eerie-sistable (Sting Eucliffe x Rogue Cheney - Halloween - NSFW)🔞

Sex For Breakfast (Sting Eucliffe x Rogue Cheney NSFW)🔞

Feel The Beat Of My Heart As The Count Down Starts (Sting Eucliffe x Rogue Cheney - New Years - NSFW)🔞

The Sweetest Taboo (Sting Eucliffe x Rogue Cheney x Yukino Aguria- NSFW)🔞

Stingue Event: Shadowlight Week (2021 and 2023)

Lost and Found (Sting Eucliffe x Rogue Cheney - SFW - first meeting - Shadowlight week -Day 1- First-2021)🧁

Anything For Love (Day 1 -Dare- Sting Eucliffe x Rogue Cheney - SFW- 2023)🧁

The Monster Mash (Day 2 - Thrill/Undress - Sting Eucliffe x Rogue Cheney - NSFW)🔞

Showtime (Day 3 Prompt - Watching - Sting Eucliffe x Rogue Cheney NSFW-2023)🔞

Lion Bears, Bugs and Potions OH MY! ( Day 4 - Monsters/Potions - Sting Eucliffe x Rogue Cheney - SFW-2023)🧁

In Your Love (Day 5 - Sweet/Spice - Sting Eucliffe x Rogue Cheney - SFW- 2023)🧁

Fairy Tail x OC (All of my Fairy Tail x OC works. There are one shots and multi-chapter works. These are all from my very early days in fic writing. I may revisit these someday. Sting Eucliffe x Rogue Cheney x OC, Rogue Cheney x OC, Sting Eugliffe x OC - NSFW)🔞

[cheriecoke]

hi~! can i rq a scenario with dazai where his s/o finds out he abused akutagawa in the port mafia and gets super pisssd at him because they themselves were abused? thank u!

color me blue

FEATURING. osamu dazai x gn!reader — wc: 3.1k

SUMMARY: mori reveals dazai's true nature as a mentor to akutagawa.

CONTENTS: references to past abuse, arguments, pm!reader, ada!dazai, angst, typical dazai warnings lol, comfort at the end

notes: thank you for the request !! i hope this is okay <3

It’d begun like any other morning. Already exhausted, you woke with an overwhelming list of things to do, tasks that needed to be completed by the evening.

It was a typical routine for you, these days. As a high-ranking member of the Mafia, you never got a break. Not from your job, nor the menial chores you needed to suffer through in your personal life. The laundry, it seemed, wouldn’t do itself, no matter how much your boss paid you for all the illegal actions you’d committed.

And though it was wearisome, everything had been fine. The sun began to set, and you realized that for the rest of the day, you would be free.

That was, until your routine check-in with Mori somehow led to a disclosure of what had been years’ worth of private information.

He’d greeted you as normal, sat you down before his desk with his oily smile, and had you review everything you’d accomplished that week. Though you believed you would be free to go within half an hour, when you stood to leave, Mori released an oh, by the way, and reiterated the unanticipated torment that Dazai had put Akutagawa through.

For the entirety of his story, you sat without so much as a twitch of the muscle, but you couldn’t comprehend why Mori was telling you now. It had been nearly four years since Dazai left the Mafia, and though the Boss had been aware of your relationship as teenagers, he’d never given you any sign that he knew it’d continued after Dazai defected.

You’d both been careful, secretive. You never did anything to draw any suspicion or be labeled as a traitor, and the two of you were successful.

At least, you thought you’d been successful.

Mori had never once mentioned it, had never so much as batted an eye when you spoke about Dazai from time to time. Though, now, his grin was much too conniving, the words made of steel as he drew them out, directing them in a sharp point towards your chest.

He had no intentions of going after Dazai, that much was clear. Nor did he seem intent on killing you for your misdeeds. Already, he’d spun a vile web, knowing exactly how to use you as his best asset. With you still under his command, he had some sort of advantage over Dazai and the Agency.

Perhaps, his comments were just a test of your loyalty. If Mori laid that one tiny seed of doubt in your mind, would it be enough to fracture the bond between you and Dazai that had been unsevered for years?

You wanted to convince yourself, fervently, that the answer was no. You’d been by Dazai’s side for this long and nothing he’d done had turned you away. Yet, you were unprepared for the anger that had risen in you, burning so hot and ravenous that you were unable to think of anything else.

It was all that was on your mind as you returned to the apartment, a barren space that had been used for nothing besides meetups with Dazai since the two of you purchased it. Each wall was entrenched with years of as much sin as there was love. Items that belonged to both of you were scattered across the surfaces, but there was never anything too important.

At the end of the day, neither of you could stay there long.

You paced the apartment, thinking through everything that Mori had said, over and over again. An ache of sorrow fought against your warranted rage, and you stood by the door waiting for Dazai to enter.

As angry as you were with him, as horrified as you wanted to be, there were still years and years of comfort and gentleness that placed a cooling balm over your burning wounds.

Still, a part of you had always been envious that Dazai had managed to escape into something good, and you’d become the enemy to his organization. Now, it seemed, you were the only thing holding him back.

In some other universe, surely, there was a life better for the both of you than this.

Despite your affection, you inhaled, fortifying yourself for a regrettable conversation. You channeled your resentment into logic, rephrasing sentences in your mind until they were perfect, forming an argument that couldn’t be so easily shut down by Dazai’s soothing words.

The door clicked, unlocked by the only other person that held a key to the salacious space. He was humming to himself, an upbeat song that had been stuck on the radio charts for weeks.

Something about that simple action startled you, set you off kilter, and you crossed your arms, protecting yourself. You came here with a purpose, and you refused to diminish the weight of the conversation. A puff of steam left you on a heavy exhale.

Dazai threw the key on the counter and smiled, his eyes softening the moment they caught a glimpse of you. “You got here faster than I thought.” His tone was cheerful, and he seemed relaxed, without the foreboding cloud of misery pushing down on him. It was so unusual that you, almost, regretted bringing up what you’d learned from Mori at all.

Though, it wasn’t something you could just ignore. You straightened, making sure not to deflate under his undeniable warmth.

For a moment, Dazai didn’t realize that anything was wrong. He hung his coat up, stretched his limbs, and talked without facing you. “It’s been too long since we’ve seen one another. I thought about you all day,” he said, drawing out the syllables with a short laugh. “You’re always such a distraction. How will I ever get my work done?”

Dazai seemed so happy, and in all your years together, you’d never thought that would be a word used to describe him. It pained you to ruin that, even as your nails dug into your palm, trying to reconcile the two versions of Dazai that you knew.

You looked away. If you wanted to say what you needed to, you couldn’t bear to see the way his soft expression turned into one of animosity.

For a few more moments, he rambled on to himself, before realizing that you hadn’t said a word at all. You felt frozen in the middle of the room, your mouth dry as you tried to think of the best way to segue into the conversation.

“Hey.” Dazai had grown quiet, and he stopped mulling around the apartment, finally focusing all his attention on you. “What’s wrong, pretty?” There was a pout on his lips, his expression already falling from the bright, joyful one he’d worn when he’d entered. “I still haven’t gotten a kiss.”

You were weak for a moment, questioning if your anger was even worth it. A minute passed of your own silence before you resolved yourself, ending your hesitance. What you’d heard had upset you tremendously; you couldn’t just brush past it like it was nothing.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

Dazai’s face screwed up, eyebrows pinched, as he tried to remember what he could’ve possibly done to upset you that week. Though you often bickered about ridiculous things, it was rare that either of you lashed out in anger at the other.

Your expression was enough to let him know that this was one of those times. He hesitated. “I’m… not sure what you mean, love. Did I do something wrong?”

At that, you laughed, amused that he could play so innocent. He’d changed while in the Detective Agency, that much was certain, but you knew every bit of his soul and he certainly hadn’t been purified of his sins. “Mori told me about Akutagawa today. I doubted how much of it was true until I thought about it, really thought about it, and it makes sense.”

Dazai stared blankly back at you, his eyes searching your face for any more context. They flicked back and forth, round brown irises full of an uncertainty you weren’t sure was genuine. He was a master of manipulation, and you refused to ever be a pawn in his schemes, no matter how small. “I haven’t seen Akutagawa in weeks. Whatever’s happened to him—”

You stood straighter, keeping your hands tight at your sides. “I’m not talking about now, Osamu. I’m talking about years ago; back when you were training him.”

A moment passed; he didn’t blink. Nothing in his eyes betrayed him. “Would you care to provide me with some context?”

“You know what I’m talking about.” You scowled, clenching your teeth so hard that it hurt. “How could you do that to him? All those years, you and Oda kept it a secret from me. You hurt him. You were so cruel.” Your nails dug deep into your palm. “I told you everything that happened to me before I came to the Mafia. Every way that I was hurt, and you told me you understood. You promised me, and you turned around and did the same thing to him.”

Dazai held his body loosely, surprised by your sudden outburst of emotion. It seemed he was unsure what to do with the confession you’d just handed over. Dazai licked his lips, wetting the dry skin, and searched deep into your soul for the best way to soothe you.

But the betrayal, the hurt, was buried deep within you, and the anger wouldn’t fade so easily.

“I never kept secrets from you,” he said, instead of answering any questions. His tone was cool, unaffected, like you hadn’t just raised your voice as your countenance changed into one of distress. “You just never bothered to ask.”

Silence. You swallowed, hard, each notch of your spine stiffening. “That’s not fair. How was I supposed to know his training was any different from mine? Should my first suspicion have been that you were mistreating him?”

Dazai grew grim, the first twinge of emotion you’d seen since you’d spoken. He rubbed his temple. “You’ve got a right to be angry, but I never hid anything from you on purpose.” He reached out for you, his touch soft as he rubbed your bicep. “I just don’t know what you want me to do about it now, sweetheart. Why are you bringing this up?”

You didn’t want to tell him about Mori, not yet. That was a conversation for another time, and he wouldn’t hesitate to claim that bit of information was the more pressing matter.  

Instead, you inched out of his hold, gazing back at him with contempt. “You can’t be serious, Osamu.” His audacity shouldn’t have been surprising, but it shocked you, nonetheless. “That’s all you have to say?”

“What do you want me to say?” Dazai held his hands out like you would hand him over a script, a typed apology just for him to repeat back at you. “Never once did you show any concern for Akutagawa’s wellbeing when he joined the Mafia. Suddenly, you care, and I’m not sure why.”

“That’s not true!” you said, your cheeks hot with frustration. “We we’re friends—”

Dazai laughed, though it was mocking, without any true humor. “You expressed an interest in him that wasn’t ever reciprocated.”

You scrubbed your face, drained from his rebuttals, and put enough space between the two of you so that Dazai couldn’t touch you.

“Fine. Maybe we weren’t friends, but I wantedto be because I knew he understood. I thought we could get to know each other well. Then one day, he wouldn’t even speak to me anymore. He looked at me like I knew so much more than he did.” A finger was in Dazai’s face, scolding. “You fucked it all up. We’re just a year apart, Osamu. I didn’t want him to treat me like that just because I was dating his mentor.”

There was a break of silence. Dazai sniffed, recovering some sense of power in the conversation. “I’m sorry.” he said, but it was merely to appease you, no sincerity in the words. “Perhaps my methods of training were inappropriate and unethical, but it’s the Mafia, my love. What did you expect?”

Frustrated tears welled up in your eyes. “And if it had been me? If I had been under your command, would you have done the very same?”

At that, Dazai softened, his lips curling down. The light in his eyes flickered and faded, any happiness in his face muted. “It would never have been you. You know I could never bring myself to hurt you.”

You buried your face in your hands, his sweet comment doing little to soothe you. “He was just a kid—”

“I was too.” Dazai held your wrists gently, prying them away. He was frowning, dark eyebrows pinched together as he looked at you with both concern and betrayal. “You’re going to blame this all on me, when I was a child too, doing what I thought was right?”

“No. But you’re an adult now, and you still treat him the same way.” You shoved him away, putting space between you, never before having felt so cold in Dazai’s embrace. “He’s nothing more than a chess piece to you. That’s something I can’t accept.”

“Is that the case?” Dazai turned hard; suddenly he’d lost the upper hand. “You’ve got a lot of opinions on what’s right. Yet, remind me who’s the one still in the Mafia?” 

It was meant to hurt you, a low blow that stung and went straight to your chest. You hadn’t wanted to stay in the Mafia, but he’d never given you the choice. Dazai had left you with nothing more than a note and a promise, and you were too stupidly fond of him to ever let him go completely.

“It’s so hard to love you sometimes, Osamu,” you said, quietly, trying to keep your emotions at bay. “Your new friends at the agency get to be ignorant about the man you used to be, but I know just how cruel he was. I see him every time I look at you.”

Dazai stared back at you stunned and hurt. He flexed his fingers, but for once, he didn’t reach out for you.

You couldn’t bear to look at him anymore.

The bathroom door slammed behind you, and you stood in front of the mirror, watching splotchy patches form on your skin from unreleased emotions. The sink ran, a steady stream with no end, to tune out your deep, calming breaths until you no longer felt that immense amount of anger.

You knew what you were getting yourself into by falling in love with a man like Dazai. You’d known it from the beginning. He was no different than all the people that had hurt you, the reason why you’d come to the Mafia in the first place.

Yet, he was so much more loving with you, gentle and patient, and you knew that under every layer of bad intent and regretful crimes, Dazai was a good person.

With a sigh, you turned off the sink and crept back into the room, feeling remorseful and miserable. The knowledge of what he’d done to Akutagawa was something you couldn’t forgive him for. It was horrible and traumatizing, but so were so many other things that he’d done.

You couldn’t place double standards on him for his previous actions. If you had loved him despite all of those things, you weren’t going to be able to stop now.

“Osamu?” you said in a quieter voice, creeping out of the bathroom silently, slinking within the shadows.

He was spread over the length of the couch, his head resting on the arm of it as he stared up at the ceiling. When you approached, he shifted into a seated position, waiting for you to speak.

“I didn’t mean what I said,” you began, walking slowly towards him, drawn to him easily. “You’re not a difficult man to love. I’ve never felt that way.”

Dazai smiled, though it was half-hearted, and extended a hand to you. You took it quickly and he drew you into his lap, squeezing you tight. “Well, I certainly don’t make it easy on you.”

You were silent. He kissed your forehead, running a delicate touch across your back.

“I can’t take back what I did to him.” Dazai sighed, dropping his forehead to your shoulder. “The damage is done.”

“I know that.” You breathed, his calming scent wrapping around you, reminding you that no matter what, he would always be your home. “It’s not fair for me to judge you when I’m still in the Mafia. My crimes are no better than yours. Even if what you did…” you trailed off shaking your head. “No. You’re right, Osamu. It’s not fair.”

He guided your fingers to his lips, kissing each of them lightly with the beginnings of a smile. “I’ll never be a perfect man, but I’m trying to be a better one.” Though he refrained from showing vulnerabilities to most people, he was more open with you, more willing to reveal the parts of himself he despised the most. “I… hope you know that. It may not seem like I’m trying, but—"

“I know you are.” You ran a hand through his hair and swallowed, resting your cheek on top of his head. “Osamu, you’re already so different than you were when you left. You’ve changed much more than I have. It was horrible of me to diminish that.” You squeezed his hand. “I’m sorry I said that.”

A minute passed before he spoke again, his breath so steady, a reminder that he was still there, with you, despite all attempts he’d made to leave you behind. We’ve seen every ugly side to one another. It makes it far too easy to be unkind. Doesn’t mean I’d ever love you any less.”

You smiled, though it was sad, but through your hurt you were still devastatingly devoted to him. It was just easier to ignore the damage he’d caused when you weren’t staring it right in the face, a walking, breathing reminder of the person he held inside him. The very type of man that had once hurt you.

You squeezed him tighter, blocking out the cruel memories of your past. Dazai had never laid a punishing hand on you, had never spat demeaning words at you that could never be forgiven. Through it all, he had adored you, treated you with a gentleness you’d desired, and loved you without conditions.

Brushing dark hair away from his forehead, your eyes softened, the darkness in him cracking as the light began to shine through. “I know, Osamu,” you said, your cheeks pinching, warm. “Despite it all, I will always love you without regrets.”

[foreverisntenough]

Forever Isn't Enough Series

Hi! Welcome to my fictional delusions about footballers. I hope you enjoy my work :)

MDNI! (Contains Smut* turning on Mature content community labels on your account may be required)

Oldest to Newest ⇨

YOU'RE MINE * MDNI 18+

Trent Alexander-Arnold x Reader | 30 Chapters - Complete ✨

↳ While you daydreamed about his face an ocean apart, he had no idea what yours was about to do to him. With a twist of fate and the heat of summer, a new relationship would completely ransack his heart - Everyday heavy with the thought of one another, neither of you were going to let the unexpected love of your life go. You were going to be his, you were his, and you were going to stay his.

Read Now! ♡

OURS * MDNI 18+

Trent Alexander-Arnold x Reader | 30 Chapters - Complete ✨

↳ You were his and he was yours but what would it be like adding one more? Thrust into a whirlwind romance you never could’ve imagined that became your forever love. You continue building a new life across the pond with a very beautiful Scouser. A sequel to the ‘You’re Mine’ fic.

Read Now! ♡

THE EPILOGUE * MDNI 18+

Trent Alexander-Arnold x Reader | 3 Parts - Complete ✨

↳ A conclusion to what has happened in the ‘You’re Mine’ sequel 'Ours'

Read Now! ♡

ACT II * MDNI 18+

Jude Bellingham x Reader | Complete ✨

↳ Attraction is like a gravitational pull that is undefinable and unavoidable. Unbeknownst to you, Jude had been keeping an eye on you since he caught a glimpse on his best friend’s girlfriend’s Instagram but he’s been loving his single life. You always were independent and know how to swim on your own but maybe you have been just treading water. Could the tides change on a holiday in Greece when you finally meet? It might get a little rocky but maybe you could be his paradise. ‘Act II’ is interconnected to the 'You’re Mine' and 'Ours' Series but can read it independently.

Read Now! ♡

MOVIE NIGHT* MDNI 18+

Trent Alexander-Arnold x Reader | Complete ✨

↳ If only life was like the movies. For years, you’d flirted with the idea of something more with Trent, your brother’s best friend.  You'd always danced around the edges of something more with him, sharing flirty moments that felt like scenes straight from the cinema. You had been silently desperate for the main character of your life’s film to finally get the boy but you knew moments like that were saved for Hollywood. The lines were clear; you were always going to be his mate’s little sister. So what happens when you go off script? In a whirlwind of passion, secrets, and stolen moments, you're left wondering: will you and your brother's best friend get the happy ending you've been waiting for, or was it never meant to be more than a fantasy? 

Read Now! ♡

Aperture* MDNI 18+

Trent Alexander-Arnold x Reader | In Progress

↳  A professional footballer with a playboy reputation finds his world reframed when he meets a talented photographer who captures the light and depth he’s never seen in himself. As their friendship develops, he finds himself illuminated by her presence—a stark contrast to the shallow spotlight he’s used to, but her guarded heart keeps her from fully trusting his intentions. Their friendship develops, like film in a darkroom, shifting into something far more intimate. But when their connection begins to blur the lines between friendship and something more, he realizes she’s the light he’s been chasing without knowing it and fights to prove he’s ready for something real. Yet, their love hangs in the balance—will the film of their story overexpose and fade, or will it develop into something vivid and timeless. Sometimes, love is about adjusting the focus, letting in the right light, and trusting the process.

Read Now! ♡

[itscontinental]

<-Previous Page<-

Qb #1156

Transcribed:

Well, this is rocky terrain that only a brave sausage with balls and guts may or may not attempt to roll across.

And if sausage means anything at all, then it’s probably an assortment of parts that were once separated, pressed together under intense heat, bound up in artificial skin… begging to be treated as whole under the force of will until something comes along and separates it again.

*1 (An animal in heat, for lack of a better term).

And if gender means anything at all, then it’s probably an assortment of parts that were once separated, pressed together under intense heat, bound up in artificial skin… begging to be treated as whole under the force of will until something comes along and separates it again.

*2 (An animal in heat, for lack of a better term).

Upon further analysis of the tortagraph’s data, it appears that classification gives rise to formation by forming formlessness into shape. That’s some serious sausage-gender-fuckery being fed to us in this frequency domain. CLASSIFICATION LABELS AND CONSUMES, CONTAINMENT PROTECTS AND CONFINES. EVERYTHING THAT HAS EVER BEEN CLASSIFIED IS FORMED TO SURVIVE ITS HEAT LONG ENOUGH TO BE SWALLOWED. Roger that, transmission received loud and clear and it arrived scorching. Oh wait, the tortagraph is leaking all over, it’s… ahhhsdgfsthfghfg.

*3 (Animals in heat, for lack of a better term.)

Hmmm… if classification gives rise to containment, then what happens when containment leaks? Well, it’ll bleed onto the floor and nobody would even know that there was something once alive trying to exit the skin that it didn’t even consent to. Can anything ever be classified in some other fashion when it has been broken down from its original structure and made anew so many times? Not really, because there is no point of reference for the beginning and end of this thing. It only knows that it has been chewed up before… it remembers that heat. What is it without protection? Peel a casing off and let it ooze, you will see the parts that were once bound up are now separated, begging to stay this way under the force of will until something comes along and stitches it back up again. Fascinating… by spilling your guts, you reject classification and become the opposite of everything that sausage and gender desire to be without pressure: (*4) f o r m l e s s.

*5 (No animal in no heat, for lack of a better term)

a. Please, consider eating the sausage without the casing and its confinements, anything to rid the heat. Just serve it on a porcelain platter to maintain its moisture and preserve its contents.   -> to Q #?? ->

b. That tortagraph was petty for bugging out like that. I wonder if it was only trying to reflect the transmissions it received, it’s just doing what it knows best. I wonder if the tortagraph is no different than the two other parties involved. -> to Q #?? ->

c. “I can’t see the meat but it tastes the same to me”

“I can’t smell the meat but | it tastes the same to me”.

“I can’t feel the meat but it tastes the same to me”.

“I can’t taste the meat so it doesn’t matter anyway”.

What the fuck would a deaf person say? -> to Q #XX->

d. “Let’s talk about buttered sausage. Where it comes from, what it does. Why is it doing what it’s doing? Get it out of my face.” –The buttered sausage guy -> to Q #?? ->

e. Is there a poking and prodding utensil out there that refuses to commit? -> to Q #?? ->

[keylimeyunho]

hard to ignore: part 3

part 3: "rehearsal"

pairing: reader x fuckboyidol!san genre: smut, fluff word count: 6.3k warning(s): rough making out, dom!san, hate sex, name calling, manhandling, fingering, alludes to sex, talks of virginity

you will admit, the way you acted yesterday was definitely out of hand. but today was a new day.

everything that happened yesterday, you were just going to forget about. forget about your embarrassing decision to stand in front of choi san's infuriating face and tell him off for being the dick he was and probably has always been.

it's now day 2 of the 3 seoul shows that are kicking off ateez's first world tour since the pandemic and today, you were getting to work on not only their makeup, but their outfits. you woke up still in disbelief that this was your job.

and nothing else was going to happen today to risk it again. not choi san, not jeong yunho, not eunchae. you were going to mind your business and grace these boys with the best outfits they've ever seen. and that's all you were going to do.

yet still, you were at their trailer door by the time it rang 8 am on your phone. just as he wanted you to be.

you scratched your arm and straightened yourself, waiting for one of the members to open their door. you could see your hot breath coming out of your mouth into the morning chill. you were somehow more nervous on day 2 than you were on the first day- but you're pretty sure you knew why.

the door opens and the sound echoes through the trailer lot, as you were the only ones up at this hour. yunho stood at the door with a warm smile, letting all the cold over your arms and in your body melt away. however, the smile quickly changed to a gaping mouth in shock.

"oh my god, did we leave you out here too long?" he reaches his arm out and grabbed the makeup bag out of your shaking hands and gently pulled you inside their heated trailer. "i'm sorry..usually hongjoong is awake but i think after the adrenaline of last night, we all crashed." he scratches his neck and looks down at his feet.

you walk into their trailer to find that the director had brought their day 2 outfits already, each carefully zipped in their costume bags, for you to sew to your hearts content and tether perfectly to all eight bodies of ateez. you felt a smile creep across your face.

you turn back to face yunho who was still looking down, ashamed he left their poor stylist outside for too long.

"don't sweat it," you reassure him with your now beaming smile. "right now, i'm itching to see what outfits they're giving us to work with!"

you place your bags down and run over to the bag labeled "SEONGHWA," giving into the temptation and running your hands over the zipper.

you turn back to yunho, whose soft smile had returned to his face and he tilted his head at you with endearment of curiosity. you beamed at him. "can I please open this now? seonghwa always has my favorite look...and I might die if I don't get to see it right now."

the coffee machine behind yunho chimes and he jumps out of the trance your eyes had put him in.

"shit! my coffee!" he scurries over before his coffee spills over the mug. "y/n, of course you can," he reassures you as he lifts the mug carefully over to the fridge for creamer. "you're our stylist. and i think you should get a good look at the outfits before we put them on."

you bite your lip nervously. "alright....fuck it. you're right." you tear into the bag (carefully, of course) and reach your hand in to pull out seonghwa's suit.

you gasp. a red vest with a plunging neckline wrapped in a formidable black coat that was as long as his pants hanging off the hanger. the sides of the jacket turned to the deep blood red of the vest. you could smell the scent of fresh fabric and feel the softness of the fabric between your fingers. a very seonghwa outfit indeed.

"did you see mine?" yunho says behind you. you turn you heard to see him grinning from behind his coffee mug, sipping carefully with one arm leaning on the counter. "i think it's my favorite of all of our outfits this tour. maybe even ever."

you roll your eyes at him. "now that has to be a stretch. your outfit yesterday was amazing." you remember the black velvet and gold trim jacket you saw him in yesterday as he was performing the ring, remembering the way he became a different person, one much different than the sweet, gentle guy you were talking to right now.

yunho takes another sip of his coffee and sighs. "i mean, i loved it, don't get me wrong. but it's just...something about outfits that show off my body shape." he shrugs and puts his coffee cup down. "let me show you."

he walks over to where you are near the couch and takes the bag labeled "YUNHO." he unzips it and carefully takes out the outfit

in the same deep shape of red, yunho's outfit is much different yet just as elegant as seonghwa's. it's half red-half black with a black, floral decal on the right shoulder. no jacket or baggy pants. just a glorious button-down, perfect for a performer like yunho. and definitely better than yesterday's outfit.

your mouth hangs open in shock. "wow, you were right about one thing. it's definitely much more form-fitting."

you reach your hand out to take the bag from him and your fingers brush for a second. yunho probably doesn't notice, but you do. you try to ignore the fact his fingers were soft, maybe freshly moisturized. he smelled good, too. you wonder how long he's been-

"the rest of them will be ready soon, they're all awake- i'm just the only one who remembered you were coming, i guess." he beamed at you and offers a hand to pull you up. "and since i'm all ready to be prepped, i'll take one for the team and go first." he winks at you and puts his hand to his heart, in honor. "i'll sacrifice my sleep to give the guys some time to recoup and actually eat something."

you smile softly at him. today was already looking better than yesterday.

-

once all the boys finished getting ready, you were able to start rotations for fitting them for their outfits. they were generally well-fitted on them, but you did some last-minute tailoring.

you could tell the boys were probably not completely comfortable with their outfits. wooyoung kept pulling at the shirt under his red blazer and seonghwa clearly wasn't comfortable with the length of his coat. so you opted for wooyoung to just remove the button down completely.

wooyoung checked himself out in the mirror and got shy when he saw the way his chest was more exposed with the shirt removed. you hid your smile; you could not deny seeing the evident mercedez benz logo on his chest more clearly this way.

he turned back to you with his hands together, thanking you. "this is much better. lord knows what i would've done if i had to dance in that shirt."

and for seonghwa, you squatted below him, taking scissors and trimming the fabric to a little below his knees, giving him enough leg room that would make it easier to perform the first set of songs. you hadn't realized that performing answer in such a long coat would probably be easier said than done.

but you could tell seonghwa felt infinitely more confident in a shorter coat than a longer one. he spun around in the mirror like a little girl playing dress up for the first time, his eyes glowing and a smile lighting up.

seeing the members feel good in their outfits made you finally feel useful today; not like a klutz. or someone getting in their way.

you better stay away from me if you know what's good for you-

"y/n, this is just- wow."

seonghwa's voice shakes you from that memory, one that felt so vivid but so distant. but you smile at him, forgetting all about it.

"you look stunning. regal, even." you put your hands on his coat again, unbuttoning the coat and revealing more of his neckline and deep red vest. you looked up seonghwa, who was looking down at you, with that intimidating glare and sharp cheekbones.

but his gaze transformed into a big smile with his eyes squeezed shut the way it always does. "only the second day and you already are proving to be our best stylist yet."

you roll your eyes at his comment. "oh please, you're just saying that." you nod to his coat, "it was a simple cut and sew, easy. it wasn't that special.”

seonghwa punches your shoulder playfully. "hey, don't put yourself down like that. we all are thankful you came to kq."

you scratch your arm awkwardly, looking away from seonghwa's genuine, caring expression. you knew he meant well, but you have trouble believing everyone at kq wanted you here. especially after-

"hey, don't let whatever happened between you and san get to you. please." seonghwa looks at you with sympathy and pleading. you can tell he means what he's saying.

"man's an ass. we all know it. i don't even need to know what he said to know that he's already getting to your head." he turns back to the mirror to straighten his coat. "you just gotta put him in his place and he'll get off you. only time he ever gets his way is when you let him walk over you."

you look at seonghwa's face in the mirror and he raises an eyebrow at you. "so don't let him. just tell him to fuck off."

that was the first time you had a genuine laugh for the first two days.

now that was funny. telling your superior to go f himself. yeah, that would end up better than yesterday.

you in san's face backstage. san staring daggers into your eyes. san barging into your trailer. you can't stand the way he's starting to consume your mind.

you stop laughing to look at seonghwa. "yeah, like that'll end well." you scoff.

but seonghwa's face remains indifferent. suddenly, he turns around and heads towards the door. "thank you for everything, y/n. and im serious. someone should really just tell him that one day." he shoots you one last stern look, almost like something of an older brother, who cares about you. "and its certainly not gonna be me." he walks out.

you look at the clock. it's currently 9:06 AM.

be ready by 8 am. you shake the thought of your head, shaking the sound of his degrading, scratching voice out of your head.

while waiting for him, you head over to the bag labeled "SAN" to get his suit ready.

just by taking the jacket out by the hanger, you can already tell this was definitely choi san's. the shoulders of his jacket made the plastic hanger look like it was a child's one. the difference between the broad shoulders and tiny waistline was evident. and not to mention the deep neckline on the jacket, similar to mingi's and seonghwa's. but if you can remember choi san's build, when you looked up at him towering over you last night, you wouldn’t be surprised if more than just his neck would be visible when he put this on.

"personally, i think it's not enough. how am i supposed to dance in that thing?"

you whip around to see him leaning on the door frame with his arms crossed. he was wearing the same frown he had when he was at your trailer door.

you put the jacket down, turning back around and refusing to make eye contact with him. "do you even know how to knock? stop sneaking up on me."

he walks over to you and the jacket. he takes it from you, feeling the frabic under his fingers. "no, i don't think i will. i think it's payback for the way you spoke to me yesterday."

you grip on the chair next you so he can't see the anger fuming in you again. can he just shut up and be normal like the rest of the members?

you force a smile and you walk away from him, trying to keep a healthy distance between the two of you. “can you please just put this on so we can get this over with it?"

he clutches it to his chest and tilts his head, pouting. "i just walked in here, goddamn. you want me gone already?" he clicks his tongue.

you move back to the table to grab your measuring tape. you weren’t putting him. "i would prefer to speak to you as little as possible." you turn back to him. "since you said you never want to see me-"

you stop in your tracks when you come face to face with back muscles. san's back. you're staring right into his bare skin as he had already started to take his clothes off to try on the jacket.

he turns around holding the shirt he was wearing ten second ago and you come face to face with his bare chest now. you felt a little overhwelmed. he wasn't even in makeup or any clothes. just his plaid pants and no shirt. you could see the hint of the temporary tattoo of an 'A' peaking out of his pants on his lower abdomen. he was toned. really toned. there were ridges over his chest and you could clearly see the shape of muscle in his upper chest. his nipples were hard. maybe he was cold. or maybe he-

"don't stop on my accord. what were you saying? since i said what?" he threw his shirt on the ground and started taking off his pants.

you shielded your eyes. "you don't need to get undressed here, san." you point to the closet, still putting your head in your elbow. "the members just got changed in there.

san just rolls his eyes as he takes his pants off. "c'mon. you're telling me you've never seen a guy's body before? i don't mind" he put his hand over his heart. "honest to god. and besides. you should get a good look at me before. you know, to make sure this jacket will fit." he shakes it in front of your face.

you look at him now over your fingers, shielding your eyes from below his abdomen. the way your body reacted to just seeing his chest, there's no telling what you would do if you saw anything below his waist.

"i think i'm good for now, just...." you stare at the way his back muscles tighten as he lifts his arms up to get the jacket over his head. the ends of his black hair brushing his shoulders and his biceps flexing. he turns back around at you once the jacket is through both of his arms and he starts pulling the buttons through the loops. but you can tell he's clearly struggling. probably just to get you to help him.

"it won't- go in," he grunts, trying to pull the little button through. you roll your eyes at his feigned anger. you groan under your breath and grab his jacket, realigning it and slipping each button into the holes. he was like a helpless child that wanted your attention.

you try your hardest to not look straight ahead at the grooves of muscle on his chest and the shadow of his pecks near the opening of the jacket.

god, it was not this difficult with any of the members. they were so easy to work with and did not make your job more difficult, more distracting. something about san just made you so infuriated, so tense. but you could also feel something pooling your stomach when you looked at the way the jacket hugged his waist.

"there," you assert, stepping back to admire how he fits the jacket. and so you can get away from his intoxicating presence.

san does a 360 in the mirror, flexing his arms and moving around in different directions to test the movement within the jacket. it fit very well. but you could tell by the concerned look on his face, it wasn't quite right.

"there's too much.." he starts, pulling at the neck and trying to make more space in the jacket. "i need more freedom to move, this thing just has too much...everywhere. and it's tight."

looking from behind, you can tell san's jacket was about to bust open. his back and shoulders were so big it made it hard to find a suit jacket that could fit a body like his. clearly, whoever made this still could not do him justice.

however, you remembered one of san's stage outfits having a slit between his shoulder blades to give him more leg (or shoulder) room. while san continues to pull at his shirt, you grab the scissors.

"hold still," you tell him and grab onto his shoulders from the back to keep him from moving. taking the black fabric on his back and pinching it, you cut about a half foot size slit right in between his shoulder blades.

when you finished, you struggled to want to let go of his shoulder's. you felt a sort of security feeling shorter than san and you kind of enjoyed holding on to the muscles under his jacket.

but he did the work for you, stepping out from your hands and looking at himself in the mirror again. this time he was able to move his arms and back muscles much more comfortably. he gave you a big grin from the mirror.

"much better. just a small tweak, but i feel better about this already." he turned to you. "is there anything else you need then? because i feel pretty good as of now."

he looked down at you with his brown eyes. compared to last night, the stone face he wore as his lips twitched at you, san looked almost...cute. or something like that. you almost felt glad you could make him this happy.

“that’s something he’s never wanted.”

yunho's voice reminds you; now, san's pout looks more like a manipulation tactic.

you point the scissors in san's face, "my only request, choi san, is to let me know how that jacket holds up. and don't wear it to rehearsal. i don't want to run the risk of you ruining it before show."

"damn, okay." he holds his hands up like you just pointed a loaded gun and not fabric scissors. "but put those things down. im not gonna hurt you, baby."

you roll your eyes and slam the scissors on the table. "see? this is what i'm talking about. stop calling me...names. or anything other than y/n."

he rolls his eyes with a shit-eating grin, "i'm just trying to be nice for once."

your gaze is locked into that shit grin you want to wipe off his face. it's a shame he was such an ass because he looked really fucking good at this moment.

your grip tightened and curled on the scissors on the table. "after last night, i have trouble believing you even know what that word means."

san crosses his arms, his neckline opening and showing more of his chest. you keep eye contact with him.

"last night? you mean when i came close to touching your-"

"hello?" a voice at the door. yunho's.

god bless for all the interruptions today.

you shoot san one more stern look and he's silently laughing to himself, ignoring you.

"i think that means its my time to go." he put's two fingers to his brow and then points to you. "see ya, baby"

he opens the door to see yunho straightening his shirt. he freezes when he realizes it's san at the door.

san pats his shoulder. "keep her warm for me." and he walks out.

-

it was finally time for the boys rehearsal and you decided to watch today. scared of seeing san yesterday, you decided to not let him get to you again today.

you sat behind the stage mix, right across from the extended stage. you had a perfect view of everything and it almost felt like you were getting a private concert.

you crossed your legs and laid back in your arena chair. it reminded you of the feeling of being a k-pop fan before this, before you were offered this job. screaming in these seats at the men on stage flashing their smiles and dancing, losing your voice to your own screams, your heart beating out of your chest from the adrenaline.

but now you're sitting in this arena as someone who knows these boys like colleagues. even might have a toxic flirtationship with one...

"cmon, no one will care," yunho had said to you as you checked the fit of his button-down a couple hours prior. "you deserve a vip view of an ateez concert- one without any of the fans competing for our attention."

you rolled your eyes and shrugged your shoulders. "i know someone who might care if i'm there."

yunho grabbed both your shoulders and bent down to match your eye level. "y/n, please don't tell me you're letting him get to you again. just ignore him. he's an ass."

you look into yunho's big brown eyes. yunho was so thoughtful and caring and you had only just met these boys. how could he be so sweet, touching your shoulder and looking into your eyes? but his bandmate didn't even know how to hold a conversation that didn't poke at the insufferable sexual tension hanging between the two of you whenever you had to be alone with san.

you pouted, slightly. "i'm trying, but he just finds new ways to get under my skin and be a piece of shit when he talks to me."

a really fucking hot piece of shit. but you digress.

yunho grips your shoulder harder. "you're going to come down to our rehearsal and have some fun. you deserve it."

suddenly, the lights turned off. the beginning chimes of hala hala could be heard throughout the arena. it finally hits you you're getting a front-row view of one of ateez's most powerful songs since debut.

you stuck your head a little higher up to get a better look over the stage mix. you could see eight silhouettes walking out from the main stage and you tried to make out the shape of each one.

from the left, seonghwa had on a white shirt and black pants barely covering his ankles, already donning the pointy dress shoes he was probably going to wear during tonight's show.

yeosang had on a grey compression shirt that really hugged everything in. and matched it with his black dress pants.

hongjoong donned a bare face with black baggy basketball shorts and high top jordans with brown socks. his hair could be seen peeking out from his hoodie.

yunho had on a baggy black t shirt, but wore light grey joggers. when he saw you in the crowd, his eyes lit up, breaking the trance hala hala had placed him under in order to wave an awkward hi to you. you grinned and waved your fingers back.

jongho had on a dark blue flannel and black joggers and running sneakers, holding his deep purple microphone in his left hand.

mingi had on his off white beanie, almost covering his eyes and all his hair, also donning a hoodie with a beige flannel over it. very boyfriend-esque; a striking juxtaposition to his onstage persona that he would release tonight.

wooyoung's hair was wet from a shower and slicked back by the water, therefore he was wearing his black windbreaker that reached almost to his knees with grey sweatpants.

and then at the end, you could see san wearing-

you froze.

san was not wearing his normal dancewear. anything could be better than this. even seeing him totally shirtless again from a couple feet away.

anything was better than the fact he was wearing exactly what you told him not to.

he walked out in his black and red jacket you just cut for him, the one you specifically told him to avoid wearing before the show.

but since when did choi san ever listen to something you asked of him?

you're jaw locked and you squinted your eyes at him. his gaze went from hala hala intimidating to another shit-eating grin and a silent laugh, right in your face.

oh, you were going to fucking kill him.

the members started dancing together in unison as the pre-chorus hit. but you only watched him carefully.

as it built to the chorus, san's part came up where he pumped his fist down to make the members shake behind him.

he looked directly at you as he pumped his arms down on each beat, tongue peaking out his lips and his eyebrows raising. you kept looking at him. don't fucking try anything.

unfortunately, the song continues with san performing like he's never wanted to impress someone more. he flung his body on the stage floor and kicked high enough his pants almost ripped. you just crossed your fingers he didn't mess up the jacket you fixed for him before the show even started.

if the jacket ripped during the show, it wouldn't matter as much. the fans might even swoon at the thought of seeing san's jacket rip from the sheer width of his shoulders.

but as his stylist, you didn't want san to get on that platform during their first song with a ruined outfit.

but san couldn't give less of a fuck about that. as long as he was getting under your skin, that's all that mattered to him.

finally, as the bridge built to its climax, you watched san growl something inhumane before the dance break.

outside of the seething anger you felt towards san, you couldn't deny the presence that oozed off of him while he was on stage. even in an empty arena, he was performing his hardest and pushing himself to an extent that the average human body couldn't reach. and no matter how much you wanted to ignore him, no matter how much you wanted him to get off stage, your eyes couldn't help but be entranced by his face the whole song.

finally, the music cuts and you look at the members lying on the ground, huffing thick air into their mics and holding their hands on their chests to catch their breath.

on the front stage, you see san laying on his back his arm over his head, nipples peaking out from under the jacket he so carelessly wore.

crossing your finger, he finally uses his arms as leverage to stand up. he sits up and turns his back to you, revealing what was left of the slit you gave him.

to your dismay, the slit of fabric no longer existed, but the entire jacket was split down the center.

the fabric was curling down out of the jacket, the skin on his back on display for you to stare at as you could even see the sweat dripping down, down, down-

"san!" you stood up. you stared him down from where you were sitting fifty feet away from the stage.

san turned to face you, his hair dripping sweat and covering his eyes. he blew a bang out of his face and blew you a kiss

-

"you're so fucking dense," you growl under your breath as san closes the door to the dressing room, his jacket in two pieces and sweat soaking his body.

"you're just so fucking arrogant, idiotic, stupid, so-"

"i get it!" he yells back, running his fingers through his hair. "can you shut up? oh my god. you really are annoying, sometimes, do you know that?"

not this again. you rolled your eyes at his comment. "i swear to god, san. if you don't stop berating me for every little thing i say-"

"maybe you should unclench a little, y/n. it's just a jacket, jesus christ." he scoffs.

you clench your first. you've just about had it with him.

"maybe you don't care because either way you're getting paid after this, but it's my job to take care of your clothes." you cross your arms at him. "and i gave you a specific order not to wear that before the show. was it really that hard to follow?”

san sits back in the dressing room chair, putting his hands behind his head, now unfazed as ever. he laughs.

"yeah, i heard. but i didn't care." he sighs and a smile grows over his face.

you scream from inside your throat. you wanted nothing more than to punch that grin right off his face and show him how you really feel.

"well, now your concert jacket is destroyed because you wanted to make an absolute fool of yourself as a sick way to," you take a deep breath to control your anger. "i don't know- get back at me for telling you off yesterday?"

he leans back in the chair, biceps showing through the tight jacket an he tilts his head back to show the way his adams apple bobs out of his throat. a deep chuckle leaves his mout.

"yeah you could say that." he sits back up and this time, he spreads his legs open, leaning forward and putting his head into his right hand. "but i also wanted to see your reaction to seeing me like that on stage."

you crossed your arms. "like what?"

he stands up and walks over to you. slowly, he turns around to show you a xclose up his jacket.

the rip was infinitely bigger in person, but damn you could see every muscle in his back. sweat from rehearsal was still dripping down his back. he smelled sweaty but with a hint of a sharp, clean cologne that made you want to grab him and bury your nose right into his skin.

you pretended you didn't like seeing his back like that. "what am i supposed to be looking at?" you poke.

he turns back around and faces you, his grin making an appearance in front of you again. his hand reaches to your hair and brushes it out of your face.

"i need you to stop pretending you don't feel what i'm feeling right now."

your mouth gapes open. you couldn't believe he was saying this right now, in a situation so serious. however, something about the way his fingers felt brushing your forehead, you can't deny, that familiar heat was pooling in your stomach. part of you wanted to vomit, but also have san touch your skin one more time to bring it back.

you set your jaw. "i dont know what you're talking about. you really need to learn when to shut up and listen-"

"ohmygod, y/n." he grabs your chin this time and tilts it up, looking down at you. "i saw the way you were eye fucking me on stage earlier. cut the bullshit."

you slit your eyes and push him off you and he stumbles back, slightly in shock you actually fought back.

you stand still. staring at him, covered in sweat, hair over his eyes, plunging neckline putting his nipples back on display. it was really hard to want to punch him across the face when he looked like that, when he smelled like that, when he talked like that.

you stare at each other for a little longer. finally, san walks closer once more. this time he puts his hand on the wall over your head, looking down at you.

you stare daggers into his forehead. he just smirks and cracks his neck.

"no snappy response this time, huh?"

you stare back up at him.

"fuck you, choi san."

he grins, his eyes closing and he breathes in through his teeth sharply. he reopens them.

"fuck you, too."

his lips were on yours before you could even register that he pushed you against the wall with that much force.

the kiss was sloppy, desperate. you weren't even sure if there were any feelings in it. but you both knew it stemmed from the unbearable sexual attraction you felt to one another in this moment.

his hands traveled from the wall to your waist, squeezing them and twirling his fingers in the ends of your shirt. your hand curled under his arm and you squeezed the skin on his back to hold on as he kept his lips glued to yours, not even separating them to breathe.

you didn't know what you were doing. but you didn't care

"fuck, baby," he finally breathes into your mouths, "you're so-"

"just shut the fuck up and kiss me," you breathe back, putting your lips back on his and wrapping your arms around his neck.

he takes his hands off your waist and puts his hand under your thighs. he lifts you up, your ankles locking around his waist in return. your lips never separate from his as his mouth opens to accept your tongue in return.

he puts you on the dressing table, pulling at the waistband of your jeans.

his fingers brush your lower abdomen, just below your bellybutton and you clench at the feeling of someone being so close to you, so close to your core.

you smile into his lips and laugh a little. "san, i swear to god,"

"what?" he says, smiling back and dipping his hands past the waistband this time. "i'm not doing anything."

"i don't want you anywhere near my-" you cut yourself with a breathy moan out of your lips.

"hm? what were you saying?" his hands were now past the band of your underwear, cupping the shape of your heat and pressing slowly. "you don't me anywhere near your...."

another moan, louder this time, escapes you. you tilt your head back. "san, just shut the fuck up please. i don't wanna hear your voice."

san dips one finger little farther than the others as he leans into your ear. "yeah, but baby, i wanna hear yours."

you bite your lip and hold back a third moan, not trying to stroke san's ego already more than it has, considering he got his hands far as they've gone. but the feeling of his finger dipping inside you like that made it hard to keep your morals.

"san, san, san, please, i-" you stutter. he looks back down at you now. he removes his other hand from your waist to fist your hair, tilting your head back so all he could see was your bare neck.

"use your words, princess. or i'm gonna make it harder this time." you felt a second finger make it's way to your entrance.

san breathes into your neck and starts leaving open-mouth kisses all over your collarbone, his grip on your hair still strong as ever.

"san, please, i need- fuck!" you stutter again, this time with a whince of pain from your hair pulling out of your head by his grip on it.

"can't believe i got you to fall apart like this so fast. maybe i should just fuck you right here for being such a whore." he kisses your neck once more. " i didn't know you had this in you, but fuck. i'm not complaining."

your legs were still wrapped around his waist so you started to feel a bulge pushing through his pants. but you could not say anything with the way your nipples were piercing through your white t-shirt.

"is that what you are?" san puts his lips to your ear. "a whore? hm? letting a man you just met touch you like-" he inserts his second finger to meet the other one. "-this."

you shut your eyes tight, breathing heavily, trying to hold back your moans once again. you didn't want san to stop, butt he thought of admitting it to him made you want to vomit.

you breathed out once more and looked into his eyes.

"n-no." you choked out.

san raises an eyebrow. "hm? oh really?" his fingers start pumping faster.

you nod fast, biting your lip. don't stop, please don't stop.

"so you're a fucking virgin, huh?" he says, louder this time. his hand releases on your hair and throws your head forward.

"makes sense," he says, his fingers still pumping at the same, delicious speed. "i've never felt a pussy this tight, fuck. i bet i'm the first one to be this far inside you"

you suck in another breath. "san, oh my god, please, stop talking."

his knuckles curl in you the moment you let that out your mouth. god fuck, how did he get so deep that fast?

san laughs in your ear again "i think i should just stick my cock in this pussy already, that'd stretch you out faster, hm?"

you can feel a third finger making its way. you're not sure if you're ready to cross that bridge.

san inches the tip of his third finger to your clit "just admit you want my cock right here-"

"y/n? are you in there?"

the voice outside shakes you both and you jump right off the table. san pulls his fingers out of you and tucks them behind his back.

"hello?" yunho.

you look at yourselves in the mirror. your nipples were hard and visible through your shirt.

san's jacket was wrinkled and his cock was hard in his pants.

you put your hoodie on to cover your nipples and the wet stain in your jeans. san sits on the chair to cover himself.

"coming!" you say to yunho outside.

you turn to look at san one more time before opening the door. but instead of wearing the same mortified face you couldn't get off your face from the last ten minutes, san wore the biggest smile you ever saw, looking more content than ever.

part 4: fri july 29th

series masterlist | previous chapter

tags: @mulletjoonsupremacy @sakura777chan @lemonhongjoong @moonsangie @kitten4sannie @sanasstrawberry @baguette-atiny @ka-ni-ma @wooyoungsbestie @choisansnotsolegalwife @s10an @atinytinaa @nonclassyparty @kwanisms @timeofwave @sangiluvem @sanstreasure0305 @starcrossedsan @kha0sblossom @diorwoo

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The Bargain 7

Masterlist

Warnings: financial stress and abuse, coercion, noncon, and some possible unmentioned triggers.

Character: Nick Fowler

Summary: You realise you don’t know Nick anymore.

Note: I'm still on a short hiatus for my novel but might drop tiny tidbits here and there between.

As always, I appreciate all kinds of feedback. A like and reblog means so much to me! <3

You pull the straps over your shoulders, the satin sheet cool around your figure. The frigid night ekes in through the window as you move through the dark. Your ears are pricked for the measured breaths keeping tempo. He’s asleep. You’re not free, but you can catch your breath.

You think of closing the window before you go. It nips deep into your flesh but he’ll be fine in the heaps of down and fabric on the bed. You ease open the door and edge down the hallway, careful not to do more than scuff the floor with your bare soles.

You take the stairs one at a time, careful not to creak on your descent. You go into the den, nightie swishing around your legs as your impatience boils over. You unclasp the glass doors framed in walnut and take out the bottle of Shiraz. You take it to the window bench and nestle up to watch the night gales stir the autumn leaves.

You wiggle free the cork, left loose by your last indulgence. You take a swig and sigh at the relief of the bitter flow across your tongue. You used to hate the flavour of wine, now you live for it. Those few minutes a night you can wash away the day.

You’ll have to replace the bottle. Again. Eventually he’ll figure you out. He’ll notice the label or the charge on his statement. You don’t really care, it’s just wine.

The billowing winds offer a soothing backdrop for your inebriation. You finish the bottle to your surprise. You want more. Anger brims in your drunken veins at the realisation that even this stolen delight is bound in his control.

You get up, the room jittering in your vision. Oops. You’re drunker than you thought. You hadn’t eaten enough at dinner. 

You teeter through to the kitchen and fill the bottle with tap water. You go back to the den and find the cork, forcing it back into the neck. You pause and stare at the shape of the bottle in your hand and belch. You’re pathetic.

You close your eyes and pout. How did it end up like this? You’re not supposed to be here. Not with Nick. Not like this. He’s your friend, now your keeper. It’s supposed to be different.

The vision of you walking down the aisle, white petals raining down in what can only be a fantasy, a man in a tux waiting for you at the end. Your eyes wet as you see Curtis watching you with a glimmer. Your heart pulses as you resist the urge to rush into his arms. Then you see Nick, across from him, watching with snakish spite.

The bottle slips from your hand and shatters at your feet. You gasp and look down, shaken from what could have been. What should have been.

You spin and look around at the ghostly darkness swathed over the space. You hate this. You hate it all. Each step you take is off kilter and reckless. You grab the low table before the artificial fire set into the wall and push it on its side with a deafening boom. You clatter the arm chair onto the floor, then that ridiculous chess table her never even touches.

Your rampage cannot be stopped even as you’re aware of the ruin, of what this will get you. You don’t care anymore. No matter what you do, it will always be torture.

You swing open the liquor cabinet and pull down a bottle, dropping it onto the hardwood. It smashes and the contents splash up your skirt and leg. Another and another. The sour scent brews around you with each crash.

Then the light flicks on and gives sight to your destruction. You stop with a bottle of scotch clutched in your fist. You wobble as you turn to face Nick, watching with sleep consternation. He grips the door frame and grits his teeth.

“Sweetheart…” his eyes scan the room with disappointment.

You don’t think, you just hurl the bottle at him. He side steps as it hits the wall just beside him, a shower of glass and scotch smattering down. He stares at the brown stain on the wall then slowly turns to you.

You waver as he stays silent. Marching towards you calmly even as his eyes blaze. You gulp as you look back at him, senseless. He brings his hands up to frame your face.

“Sweetheart,” he bows to look down, “what’ve you done to your feet?”

You let your head drop and look at your feet. Little cuts bleed along the side of your soles and red prints stain the wood beneath. You shrug and let out a sob. You know he’s angry, you just don’t know what he’ll do next.

[morimakesfanart]

Sindria's Prophet #41

[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] [11] [12] [13] [14] [15] [16] [17] [18] [19] [20] [21] [22] [23] [24] [Intermission] [25] [26] [27] [28] [29] [30] [31] [32] [33] [34] [35] [36] [37] [38] [39] [40]

[AO3] [wattpad]

Sinbad x OC

*Mori goes to horny mecha *More sex ed things *Emotional/tonal whiplash ~POV Sinbad~ Mori couldn't keep their eyes off of him for days, but they turned away every time Sinbad returned their gaze. He was definitely getting under their skin. It was only a matter of time before they fully became his, but he wasn't certain he could make it happen before he left for the Kou Empire. It was only after he sat at his desk and couldn't seem to finish a single document that he couldn't deny Mori was under his skin too. Even the waves were pointing him away from his desk.

However, the King couldn't exactly leave when he had just started working -that was what Zepar was for. The bird circled the Black Libra Tower, and when it entered through an open window of Mori's office it wasn't his Beautiful Prophet inside. That was definitely Ja'far leaving the room holding a bunch of scrolls. And when he entered the court yard, the General was headed towards the White Capricorn Tower. Something told Sinbad that Ja'far was heading his way without the waves. He dropped control of the bird.

Sure enough, Ja'far entered his office with the scrolls and put them on his desk. "Sin, is what Mori wrote in these true?" Just glancing at the labels he knew, "I haven't read those ones yet, but I'm sure they are." "Read them now." Ja'far had not looked this upset with him in years. "I'll wait."

--- ~POV Sharrkan~ Mori was ranting and it was far worse than anything Yam had ever said. "Yeah, no! I don't care how pretty these are or how much of a tourist attraction they are! You have to stop selling and supplying quartz and wooden dildos!" The Prophet pointed one such facile at the group before her. "These materials are porous. They can't be properly sterilized, so they will eventually lead to infections no matter what orifice they're shoved into!" Sindria's best swordsman was stuck between covering his face or ears while Mori 'educated' him and the staff of the Red Light District. This was a mistake. 'Can the King just show up and kill me right now????' She sighed. "You can make a similar-ish affect to quartz with glass right? That's actually safe to use, easy to sterilize, and they can handle a wide range of temperatures so you can even use them for temperature play." The Prophet twirled the crystalline dick while talking. "I was surprised when I saw how advanced this country's glass is so there shouldn't be a problem making dildos out of safe materials with the glass work here." Sharrkan had thought she would just take notes or something and leave, not try to fix everything right then and there!!! What materials were safe, what practices were dangerous; 'didn't matter that she was also teaching them things they could do/use instead that would work better. Wasn't Mori supposed to be a huge virgin nerd like Yam??? Why did she know so much about all of this? There's no way this was just from her visions. The staff were the ones taking notes instead of the Prophet. 'At least they seem to be enjoying themselves.'

--- ~POV Sinbad~ Ja'far brought the remaining Fate scrolls Sinbad had yet to read, but only really wanted him to read parts of 2 of them for the conversation. The contents were telling, both in his mistakes of the past, and Ja'far's current glare. When his Beautiful Prophet first told him that he ran away from responsibility using 'Fate,' he thought he had found the true answer in the waves. But that was a contradiction. The waves were caused by people's decisions, so even if they guide people to opportunities it doesn't remove their agency. Without realizing it, Sinbad had fallen into another phantasm to protect himself from guilt. Some of the comments Mori made since they met had hinted at the real reason but it was clear she had no intention of telling him directly. All of the scrolls had signs of being edited here and there, but not these two. They were still in process. And so there was the truth written directly in the paragraphs after his release from slavery.

...He had long forgotten how to ask for emotional support ... Those feelings would fester every time he made another mistake until he was able to fully replace his guilt with the acceptance of 'Fate' as inevitable. He wouldn't be able to acknowledge his own potential for evil for another 15~ years...

That last line held the answer. 'His own potential for evil.' That was the point Mori was really talking around all this time. In her visions he hadn't been able to accept that side of himself until it was too late. He knew he was capable of such things on a factual level considering how he viewed some of his Kingly actions as 'necessary evils,' but that wasn't the same as acknowledging that truth in his Heart. The reason he had longed for the ways of his youth was because back then he hadn't done anything that would haunt the rest his life; he had yet to gamble in desperation only to hurt those around him. But even that wasn't really the truth. When Sinbad had read about when he left home after capturing the Dungeon all he could think of was how that action damned everyone in his village just as was revealed in the scrolls in front of him. He had been making this mistake since the start. 'Just what have I been doing all this time?'

Ja'far's darkened stare waited until he got through the 2nd scroll. "This is so much worse than how you made it sound. This is more than some kid thinking he's the chosen one." A hand went to his head as he tried to wrap his mind around everything. "Sin, why do you think we all swore our lives to help you achieve your dream?"

Sinbad couldn't look away from the scrolls. Doing so would only mean seeing the disappointment in his friend's eyes. He had spent so long keeping what happened in Parthevia a secret. There was nothing he could do about it now.

"I know you don't like sharing your plans, but I thought... Did you ever trust us to help you?! What was the point of gathering all of us then??"

The King opened his mouth, and the realization that he couldn't say the 'right' answer and believe his own words hit him much harder than Ja'far's accusations. His heart started racing to match the flow of the waves. The General may have only read those 2 scrolls but Sinbad had read everything leading up to them, so more of his past was fresh in his mind. Sure, he reached out to people to teach him things periodically, but any time he ran into a real problem he always took on that burden alone. Sinbad had expected 'support' from his Household Members and citizens, but never 'help.'

Sinbad lost control over his expression. "That's part of why I decided to change this path I'm on. Mori made it clear that I will repeat the mistakes of my past if I don't start relying on you all even when I..." He was unable to find the right words to finish his sentence.

"Sin." Ja'far practically hissed his name. "If you don't fix this bad habit of yours then I'll kill you myself, just like I promised all those years ago, before you can cause the 2nd Calamity."

"I'll count on that." He would rather that than be the one that almost destroyed the world. Taking a deep breath didn't help nearly as much as he hoped. "I think we've humored Mori long enough. I need to know for sure how I'm connected to the 2nd Calamity." ---

~POV Mori~ To be honest, I wasn't expecting the management of the Red Light District to believe me right away. But apparently, being officially announced as the Prophet was really good PR because they were very excited to receive some of my 'prophecies for the betterment of Sindria.' The waves had grown dangerously high during my info dumping. If I didn't know how much of a change a sexual revolution could cause from reading history I might have been concerned. Instead, it made my heart swell with pride.

Returning to my room empty handed was a bit disappointing, but it did make it easier to sneak back without being noticed. It also gave me time to make a space the bunch of the new glass dildos I preordered. I was definitely looking forward to the future.

"Finally!" Sharrkan groaned as we exited the district. "If I knew you were going to take so long figuring out-" Both of us froze in the gold gilded doorway.

'Why is Sinbad entering the Red Light District in the middle of the day???' That thought was immediately counter when I noticed Ja'far standing next to him. That meant he was here for official business, not pleasure. 'Why am I only now realizing I could have waited for him to leave the country before attempting this????' At least I wasn't carrying a bag of dicks. That would have been the most damning evidence. --- ~POV Sinbad~ When the guards had revealed that Mori was escorted to the Red Light District by Sharrkan, Sinbad was unwilling to wait for their return. However, something wasn't quite adding up to his expectations. Mori was happily walking out of the Red Light District, and Sharrkan was drained and depressed besides her.

Before the King could say anything, Mori greeted them. "Hello, you're Majesty, Ja'far! I was originally going to tell you after writing up a report first, but since you're here I'll let you know now: I realized I could share medical information for reproductive health here." She gestured behind her, "I just finished my first trip to see what is the current common knowledge, so I could better understand how I can help."

'Does that means Sharrkan didn't drag Mori here?' Even so she was talking a bit too quickly. She was definitely nervous about something.

Ja'far responded before the King could gather his thoughts. "Mori. You do remember that you promised not to invent anything, don't you?" His smile was not the nice one.

"Yes," she admitted without skipping a beat. "However I don't need to invent anything that we aren't already working on to help here." Mori's smile was unwavering.

Sinbad sought direct confirmation. "You really came here to figure out ways to improve this place?" ---

~POV Mori~ "Of course! Who do you think I am?" I said, you know, like a liar. I placed one hand on my hip, and the other over my heart for added flare. "The whole reason I came here was because the rubber experiments are coming along, and the same material can be used to make comfortable condoms you can actually feel through. That way no one has an excuse to not use them." The King and estranged prince coughed at my words. Ja'far's eyes widened. I took his lack of comment as a sign to continue. "We are already working towards rubber gloves. And what are the fingers on gloves other than tubes? We can make condoms by just making bigger tubes." I gave a perfect customer service smile to the man in charge of finances. "From my visions, I know how much trouble 'people' get into when they can't deny their desires, so I thought I could at least help with this part of the problem." "Mx. Prophet," Ja'far took a few steps forward and grabbed my hands. "You should have told me sooner! Something like is invaluable with a King like Sinbad." 'Fish, meet hook.' I softened my expression to lean into this pity angle. "I understand. I know how many complaints you've had to deal with because of him."

((Blatant Rose of Versailles reference ;3)) --- ~POV Sinbad~ This was a dilemma. Even though Sinbad had stopped taking partners, his Beautiful Prophet was none the wiser. This was a good opportunity to enlightened her, but there was something else he had to take care of first. Ja'far might have disliked Mori when they first met, but ever since the rebellion in Balbadd was stopped things started to change. They had started having periodic moments like this when their thoughts aligned. Sin didn't like it. He gently separated their hands and received their attention at the same time. "Hey now, I stopped asking for call girls weeks ago." On one hand, if Mori wanted something, Sinbad wanted to make sure she got it -if that was the assistance of one of his Generals so be it. But on the other hand, he didn't want anyone else catching Mori's eye. When he had heard that Sharrkan brought her to the Red Light District he had thought that one of his Household Members had betrayed him. From the look of things it was starting to seem like, instead of Sharrkan, it was Ja'far he should have been worried about. Ja'far took a few steps back. His eyes and brow scrunched in great disappointment and complete lack of fucks for the topic. "I think we will all feel better with this added protection considering your track record." "Yes, well..." There was no denying that. Sinbad cleared his throat into a fist to buy time as he listed the facts in his head: '-Mori has already admitted to her feelings for me before so clearly she wants to be with me. '-Mori is also aware of my own feelings even though she hasn't fully accept it yet. '-Mori has started working on condoms that are comfortable. 'She is clearly working towards our future, so we can have a long honeymoon before growing our family!!' Mori's expression was only marginally better than Ja'far's. "Are.... you sick?" The Prophet still trusted her visions far more than anything he could say. "I'm fine. I promise." This was a failure of a conversation. Sharrkan's snickering rubbed salt in the wound. There was nothing the Womanizer of the Seven Seas could say to clear his name. "...Okay." She clearly didn't believe him. Mori lightly clapped their hands together with a smile. "Well, on that bombshell, we'll let you go do whatever you were gonna do in the Red Light District." Regret. Humiliation. Was how he spent his life really such a bad thing for a future spouse? Wouldn't his experience and expertise mean that he would be guaranteed to satisfy them? Ja'far brought the topic around to their true purpose. "Actually Mori, we came to get you. We have some questions about the future you saw in your visions."

--- ~POV Mori~ The room they brought me to was the same one that lead to the balcony where I had dinner with Sinbad more than a month ago. As soon as we entered, the King started taking off his rings. Confusion spiked my anxiety. Sinbad gave me a reassuring smile. "I noticed during our meetings about Fate that you keep looking at my rings. When I remembered you know my Djinn's abilities it was obvious what you were worried about." He took off his remaining metal vessels and placed them on a coffee table. "I know I'll never use any of these on you, but actions speak louder than words at times like these." Ja'far followed his King's example and placed his metal vessels on the the table as well. I knew I looked at Zepar's ring a few times when talking about Fate, but I thought I made it seem like my eyes were wandering. I couldn't respond. My brain was still catching up and accepting what was happening. 'This isn't going to be about his trip to the Kou Empire...' I had already explained what visions I had of that trip during a meeting about preparing for it, but it was still the most likely topic I could think of. It wasn't until they settled in amongst the plush seating that I realized I should sit down too. Sinbad's expression went serious but he didn't feel angry. After a moment's hesitation he looked me in the eye. "The person who causes the 2nd Calamity is me, isn't it?" . . . . . . 'How????' The thought was immediately followed by the realization that since I hadn't responded right away there was no way they would believe anything other than admittance. I couldn't even consider the option. ((So that emotional whiplash of a cliffhanger, amiright? The chapter took so long to come out because- Surprised! That eye infection I had came back and being on the medication this time really messed me up. It's a stronger antibiotic since the last apparently didn't fully knock it out of me. I couldn't go outside without catching on fire and passing out, and I had to hyper monitor my diet. The doctor said I'm past the next stage so the dosage was cut in half. I feel more like a person again :D I'll be on it for at least another month. Wish me luck!! This chapter was also delayed because I ended up deciding to do Artober daily this year. It was my first year making a piece every day since Jake Parker ruined Inktober by trademarking it and doing a plagiarism. Anyway, I really enjoyed the challenge :D Inspired me to work on more of my original work and things. On that note, the next chapter is going to be delayed because I want to get a lucid dream one shot out by December 7th. I definitely chose that date for no reason in particular. It absolutely has nothing to do with it being a Jujutsu Kaisen dream. Promise UwU I also have an original piece I'm nearly done writing, but I'll wait to finalize it until I have the next chapter of Sindria's Prophet posted :3 The world and this country is on fire but that doesn't mean it's the end. We have survived every day up to this one, we can survive another. We will preserve.))

[posh--bee]

beneath the sleeping stars || Spencer Reid

pairing → Spencer Reid x Reader

summary → On the way home from yet another case on the jet, you and your boyfriend Spencer take advantage that your coworkers are all peacefully sleeping to have a little bit of sweet and innocent alone time, taking chances and talking about both of you getting hurt during the case.

warnings → early seasons!spencer, shy!reader, bau!reader, established relationship but it’s all very new still, they’re just little anxious beans, just pure tooth-rotting fluff, they’re so adorable your honor, minor injuries, no descriptions or pronouns used for the reader, no y/n used

author’s note → This whole thing was inspired by this post from @multifandomangel. I started writing this story immediately after I saw the post but it took me a while to come back around to it and finish it. But now it’s done and I’m very happy with how cute and fluffy it turned out :3 Let me know what you think about it <3

word count → 3.2k

This is a repost. I deleted the original post because tumblr was being difficult and marked it as needing a content label and took forever to revise it. I hope this one won't have the same problem. Thanks to all the lovely people who read, reblogged and liked the original post anyway <3

masterlist(s)

You sit next to Spencer on what the team has dubbed “his” couch on the BAU’s jet, currently on the way home to the FBI’s headquarters after having solved yet another case on the other side of the country, absentmindedly staring at the book in your hands you act like you’re reading.

The words on the page you haven’t turned in over five minutes stare back at you unblinkingly, but you pay them no mind, instead peeking over the edge of your book to inconspicuously observe the rest of your teammates relaxing in their seats. Hotch is at the front of the jet in a single seat with his arms crossed over his chest and eyes closed while Morgan, Emily and JJ sit around the table across from you. JJ’s head rests on Emily’s shoulder who in turn has her cheek squished to the top of the blonde’s hair, soft breaths leaving her parted lips. Morgan on the other hand rests against a pillow pressed to the wall of the jet, his headphones still on and Rossi, who sits behind him, has his legs stretched out over two seats with his eyes closed as well.

It's perfectly quiet on the jet except for the subtle hum of the aircraft’s engines paired with what little you can hear of Morgan’s music and the occasional soft snore coming from one or another person sitting around you.

With bated breath you wait for another minute or two to be absolutely certain about what you’re eagerly hoping for—

They’re all fast asleep.

A smile tugs at your lips and you slowly close your book and let it glide to the floor soundlessly before gently nudging Spencer’s leg with your foot.

The lanky genius next to you stirs and you immediately feel bad for rousing him from his slumber so rudely, but the feeling abruptly dissipates and is replaced by a flutter of butterfly wings in your belly when he gives you a sleepy smile, one hand coming up to rub his tired eyes.

“Hi,” he greets you quietly, his voice a little deeper than it normally is and it embarrassingly takes you a second to answer him.

“Hi yourself,” you manage, matching his soft tone to not disturb the quiet of the jet as it takes you closer to your home through the night sky.

You smile at each other shyly, starting a new round of your regular game of Who will break eye contact first? that you both lose at the same time. An amused huff escapes you at your own antics and you look back to Spencer who is already grinning at you, his cheeks glowing with an adorable blush even in the dimmed lights of the cabin.

He’s so beautiful, you think, and you want to tell him as much, but the words get stuck in your throat like you already knew they would.

Instead you ask him, “How’s your head?”

Your eyes dart to the white butterfly stitch on his temple that a paramedic has competently placed there only a few hours before because of the scuffle your recent unsub had caused before his eventual arrest.

Spencer shrugs but the smile on his lips gets a little brighter, his fingers shy of touching his wound before lowering his hand and placing it on the down on the couch, right next to where your own hand is resting on the cushion.

“It doesn’t hurt,” he tells you, his hand inching closer to yours. “It’s just a small wound, don’t worry.”

“That's good. I’m glad.”

You watch his pinky reaching out for yours and with your heart beating excitedly in your chest you meet him halfway, your fingers sweetly wrapping around each other. Your cheeks burn from the innocent touch while Spencer quietly clears his throat, trying to hide the lovestruck grin on his lips but failing adorably at it—much like yourself, you imagine.

“What about your finger?” he wants to know then and you look down to your other hand resting in your lap, one finger taped to the one beside to keep it still and in a natural position while healing, also a courtesy of the unsub’s messy arrest.

“All good,” you tell him truthfully, after carefully testing your hand’s remaining mobility. “It doesn’t hurt anymore. And luckily, it’s not even my dominant hand.”

Spencer, of course, already knows this but nods in understanding anyway.

“I’m glad,” he repeats back at you and the look in his brown eyes is nothing short of adoring. You have the urge to hide from his gaze, it’s that overwhelming, and eventually you need to avert your eyes to regain even a semblance of composure before you can face him again.

He gives your pinky a quick squeeze when you do and you feel the smile on your face grow even bigger. You let yourself sink further into the comfortable cushions of the couch then, enjoying the quiet and content atmosphere of the jet, the rare opportunity of being close to Spencer like this, openly showing affection like this, as small as it may seem, when the two of you are at work, all thanks to your softly snoring colleagues.

But you can’t fully relax, even though the exhaustion of the case is rapidly catching up with you, making your limbs feel heavy and your movements slow and sluggish. Right underneath your tiredness is an undercurrent feeling of nervousness and excitement that you can’t ignore, that keeps reminding you that you woke Spencer up for something more than a few whispered words between the two of you and pinkie-holding.

Slowly, you straighten up again, squaring your shoulders and ready to seize this opportunity the rest of the BAU agents have so graciously presented you with. Your heart instantly picks up speed and you pause for a moment, mentally hyping yourself up to just ask your literal boyfriend this simple question, but the tiny bit of confidence you could scrape together instantly evaporates the moment your eyes meet his.

“Do you maybe—want to lie down, Spence?” you ask quietly, your heart in your throat making it difficult to form the words around. “It’s probably more—more comfortable than sitting the whole flight...”

Your voice trails off at the end and you mentally scold yourself for it, having gone over your words a hundred times in your head before you even woke Spencer up but still you couldn’t get it right when it mattered. Spencer just looks at you for a moment before shaking his head, his eyes showing nothing but kindness and you try your hardest not to let your disappointment show at his easy rejection, your ears burning in embarrassment.

“I’m comfortable like this, don’t worry.” He gives your pinky another squeeze that you can’t quite appreciate at the moment, but nod to show that you’re listening. You’re always listening to him. “I like being next to you like this and anyway, we will land in about an hour and eight minutes. So you really don’t have to get up from the couch for my sake.”

When you don’t answer him after his words hung in the space between you for a few moments too long, his shoulders tense and his face falls just enough for you to notice, a tight-lipped smile replacing the soft and relaxed one from just seconds ago.

“That’s okay… right?”

He sounds heartbreakingly unsure of himself now, afraid to have somehow said the wrong thing and ruin this moment between the two of you and you pull yourself together to quickly reassure him, your heart rate spiking in alarm.

“Of course that’s okay Spence! Absolutely okay! I like being next to you like this as well.”

Your voice is a little too loud and too shrill in your need to rectify your words so you force yourself to take a deep breath, not wanting to wake up your peacefully sleeping colleagues by any means.

“It’s just not what I meant,” you continue, your voice softening. You give him an encouraging smile and don’t shy away from the intense eye contact when Spencer cautiously searches your face, honest and unguarded. He finds the reassurance he’s looking for there and after a few short moments he relaxes again, a hesitant smile pulling at his lips.

“What did you mean then?”

Your gaze falls to the worn sneakers on your feet at his question and your thumb begins to absentmindedly fiddle with medical tape on your injured hand, fighting against an overwhelming wave of anxiety that crashes into you but after a few calming deep breaths you force your way through it.

“Because the others are all asleep, I thought—I meant that you could lie down, with your head… on my lap, if you want to.”

Now that the words are out in the open your idea doesn’t sound as brilliant and cute as it was in your head—actually, it sounds absolutely stupid, and oh no, why would you say something like that?!

You fight the urge to just jump up and run for the plane’s toilet to hide in there until you have landed safely at Quantico and instead risk a glance at Spencer out of the corner of your eye, your heart jackhammering away in your chest.

Spencer stares at you with such an adorably befuddled expression that would have soothed your anxiety all at once any other time, but now it just makes you curl into yourself even more, almost missing how the blush on his cheeks gets deeper in real time, spreading to his ears and even his neck.

“Or don’t!” you immediately backpedal, mortified and panicking, mentally screaming at yourself for ever thinking this would be a good idea. “You absolutely don’t have to! I just thought—”

“No, I’d like to!” Spencer suddenly squeaks, effectively cutting you off. The two of you stare at each other for a few seconds following his words, neither of you knowing what to do now that your little misunderstanding is resolved.

“Okay. Good,” you eventually say just to have something to fill the stubborn silence that settled between the two of you. “That’s—yeah.”

You clear your throat and press your lips together as your brain is apparently having difficulties providing your mouth with something resembling full sentences and give Spencer a tight smile before reluctantly letting go of his pinkie. You move closer to the armrest by your side to give him enough room to lie down at least somewhat comfortably, and after it’s clear that you are both at a loss for what to do again, you awkwardly pat your thighs, hoping that it’s enough encouragement for Spencer.

He looks at you with comical deer-caught-in-the-headlights eyes but after taking a deep and seemingly calming breath he starts to lie down hesitantly. It takes the two of you a few uncoordinated and clumsy moments to sort yourselves out on the small couch, but eventually, between whispered apologies and pointedly avoiding each other’s eyes, you manage.

Now you stiffly sit on the jet’s couch with Spencer’s head resting lightly on your thighs like he is afraid of putting too much of his weight on you, while he is taking up the rest of the space, his back facing the cabin and your still slumbering teammates. He is also far from relaxed, you can feel how tense his whole body is and you notice that his eyes are shut tightly too when you glance down at him.

Despite dating for a few months already and being best friends before that the awkwardness and tentativeness between you and Spencer persists stubbornly. Unfortunately—sometimes frustratingly—that’s neither surprising nor unusual. Both you and Spencer are naturally shy and introverted, anxious even, and not at all confident in your social skills and interpersonal relationships. The fact that neither of you was in a serious relationship before and is more than a little inexperienced when it comes to intimacy doesn’t really help either. You can easily count on your own ten fingers how often you actually held Spencer’s hand, much less cuddled with him or kissed him. You want to be closer to him, at least in the privacy of your home or away from prying eyes (most likely belonging to nosy but well-meaning coworkers), want to create and share special memories and him, and you know that Spencer feels the same way. The two of you just need more time to get comfortable and confident with this new chapter of your relationship. But that’s okay, you know that. Eventually, you will get there, at a pace you both are comfortable with.

But until then you’ll have to deal with your heart almost beating out of your chest while Spencer is trying to relax on your lap, a dizzying mix of happiness and anxiety and every emotion in between swirling in your chest. It makes your hands shake and hard to focus on anything else than the euphoric but frightening feeling of having your boyfriend—somewhat comfortably—cuddling up to you. You still feel a little silly about how clumsy you asked him for this but you were rewarded for your uncharacteristic bravery by the comforting weight of Spencer leaning against you, his warmth seeping into your skin, a pleasant and blissful shiver running down your spine.

You love Spencer, it’s the only thing on your mind when you look down to him lying on your lap, and surprisingly the thought doesn’t terrify you. It’s the easiest truth you ever accepted and the sense of calmness that follows has everything to do with the fact that you’re in a relationship with someone as kind and considerate as Spencer.

But you won’t be able to admit this to him anytime soon, you know that, so instead you say something easier, something lighter, but equally as true.

“I don’t like seeing you hurt, Spence. I’m so happy you’re okay.”

He blinks up at you when your whispered words register in his mind, his brown eyes impossible soft, impossible adoring. You let the gentle caress of butterfly wings fluttering in your chest and belly wash over you, your world narrowing down to this moment between Spencer and you. Everything else vanished into the background, the jet, the team, even your anxious and overthinking mind quieting enough for you to be completely present in this precious moment with your favorite person in the world.

As if moving on its own your hand finds its way into Spencer’s hair, fingers carefully, experimentally carding through his silky curls that you’re delighted to find are exactly as soft as you always thought they were.

Spencer jumps at the unexpected touch but not even a second later he’s completely relaxed against you, looking like an extremely content and comically overgrown cat, happily purring in your lap.

With a sigh, his eyes fall closed in pure bliss, murmuring into the comfortable and peaceful quietness between you, “This feels nice.”

“I’m glad,” you answer in a whisper, dutifully continuing with your ministrations, burning this moment into your mind, forever.

Without opening his eyes Spencer goes on, your name on his lips, “I was really scared for a moment during the arrest. When the unsub lashed out at you, I think my heart almost stopped in my chest.”

With a sympathetic smile and nod that Spencer can’t see you bring your hand to his face, caressing his warm and soft cheek with one only slightly shaking finger.

“I know what you mean. I felt the same when you came to help me and the unsub hit you,” you admit, the shameful guilt welling up inside you leaving a bitter taste on your tongue all of a sudden. Because that’s how Spencer got hurt, rushing to your side to assist you.

But before you can even begin to spiral, Spencer’s eyes fly open, his gaze fierce when you lock downcast eyes with him.

“It wasn’t your fault, please don’t think that. I’m always going to look out for you, you know that, right? You’re important to me.”

His voice is firm, insistent, leaving no room for arguments, no room for doubts or guilt. A shaky exhale pushes past your lips and you give him a grateful smile, having no choice but to believe his words. Not when he’s looking at you with complete and utter conviction, not letting your mind torment you for even a second because of what happened during the arrest.

“Of course I know that, Spence,” you assure him, cupping his jaw. “And I hope you know that I’ll always come to your rescue too.”

His face softens immediately, subconsciously nuzzling into your hand, his lips unintentionally brushing against your palm when he says, “I do.”

Your breathing hitches noticeably at the faint touch and Spencer himself turns to stone on top of you, his large, panicked eyes darting over your face. He’s just about to launch into a distressed apology that is really not necessary when you lean down to stop him by pressing a featherlight kiss to his temple, just shy of his wound.

You surprise yourself with your action and now can do nothing but stare helplessly down at your boyfriend who only mirrors your expression back at you, his cheeks turning cherry red in an instant. But before you can now stumble your way through an apology, Spencer takes your injured hand in his without meeting your eyes and brings it to his lips, softly kissing the tips of your fingers.

He quickly hides his face in your stomach after letting go of your hand, leaving you perplexed and speechless, the tips of your ears and the apples of your cheeks burning. And just like that neither of you is able to speak up or look at the other again, both of you left to battle with their own bashfulness for the rest of the flight.

It’s probably for the best that in your painfully adorable awkwardness, you and Spencer fail to notice how your supposedly sleeping teammates are in fact very much not asleep at the moment, shamelessly enjoying their favorite workplace romance unfolding before them live and in color, their reactions to it varying from person to person.

JJ hides her tickled grin in the crook of Emily’s neck who in turn has to fight hard for her composure as to not reveal all of their sneaky nosiness, her whole body shaking with the effort of it. Morgan groans fondly, the noise muffled by his pillow, wondering if his eardrums will survive Garcia’s screeching when he tells her about how sickly adorable Spencer and you acted on the flight back to Quantico. Rossi on the other hand rolls his eyes hard enough to see the back of his own skull but the smile on his lips betrays him, muttering an amused “amore giovane” under his breath.

And even Hotch has an almost noticeable proud smile on his face—but Spencer and you still won’t get around the little talk your supervisor has planned for you about your relationship next thing tomorrow morning.

But all of this is lost on you and Spencer, tucked away in your own little world of adorably awkward puppy love which is for the best. Because neither of you would be able to handle the embarrassment from the realization that you weren’t as unobserved as you thought you were.

Thank you so much for reading <3 Likes, reblogs and comments are highly appreciated!

Feel free to hop into my inbox and talk to me ✨

dividers by @/cafekitsune

[crookedkryptonitebeliever]

Best and Worst of Both worlds (part 8)

tw: like nasty living conditions implied

vote on da poll below ill start writing after 20 votes, next chapter will b focusing on monty

part 9

You can't do it. You can't say no to Yves without going through mental hoops. So you sigh as you let him conquer your room.

You had posters of your favorite artists, but they were all lost in the clutter long ago. It reemerged dusty and damaged, but Yves repaired it the best he could. It looks decent enough to hang.

You watched him cover his mouth in contemplation as he looked around the room, trying to figure out the best place to hang it.

Yves has done more for you than everyone else combined in your life. He cleaned, he cooked, he took care of your sickness, he cleaned you, he fed you, and now he's decorating your room to make it more habitable. All of this and you never said a word, neither protest nor request. You just let him do his thing.

From what you read in the group chat, he also replenished your section of the fridge with groceries.

Your housemate took a picture of the things he bought, all of them were labelled with your name. His handwriting is black marker ink undoubtedly beautiful.

Your housemate did warn him that you're not one for cooking, the perishables could potentially go to waste. He replied that he will be visiting over for the next few days to make your meals. One of them even broke the landlord's rules and gave him a spare key to the front door.

Eventually, Yves found the perfect places to position your posters' forever home. Who knew just the strategic placement of some piece of laminated paper would elevate a room? It looks much better and oddly bigger now... well maybe the latter due to his cleanup.

He clasped his hands and admired his work. As he should.

After that, he turned to you. Which made you jolt out of surprise.

"It's been an hour and a half. Do you still want to eat?" He asked.

You checked the time. He's right, it's now half past eleven. You're not hungry anymore, so you told him that you're full. He nodded and left your room again.

Your housemates blew up the group chat due to another wild Yves sighting around the house. Is this how it's going to be from now on?

This time, you received a picture of him portioning the leftover congee in disposable containers. He has his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, showing his lean forearms. You're surprised to see that they were riddled in old scars. It was captioned: "He's freezing the rest"

You squinted and it looks like he's weighing them on an electronic scale. There's a marker pen in this picture.

You sent a message to the group chat asking if he's using his own items.

"I think so??? Idk i have never seen these containers b4" "well theyre not stained yellow yet, he has gotta have these brand new" "yea n hes using rich people sharpies, like none of us here can afford it, all of us get offbrands"

You wonder if he managed to fit them into his handbag.

Yves came back into your room, explaining that the congee will last up to 3 months in the freezer. He also walked you through the steps on how to reheat them by yourself, using the microwave or otherwise. Yves told you not to worry if you couldn't remember what to do, he wrote it down and attached it to the containers- or you could call him instead.

You nodded and waited to see what he would do. Yves seem to be doing the same thing to you for the next few seconds. Eventually though, he deem that you didn't need anything from him at the moment.

"I have to retrieve something from my car." He informed you, walking towards his bag and fishing out his keys. He checked the contents of his thermos cup, it's empty. The metal straw clanked around the walls as he picked it up and carried it with him.

You paid no mind to your housemates' frantic messages enquiring about his departure. You're too tired to care anymore, and you're too tired to know if you actually wanted him here or gone. It's nice to have company for once, but it's from a questionable source.

So you tucked yourself under your blanket and curled up into a ball. Hiding your head under your pillow so you wouldn't need to see Yves when he comes in.

You heard footsteps. And sure enough, Yves is now breathing the same diseased air as you.

But this time, he says nothing. Yves flicked the switch to your lights off and set whatever he has down on your desk.

There was a long period of silence accompanied by the soft sounds of typing. A dim glow from his computer screen illuminated his face and reflected on his reading glasses. He's logging in all the events, the observations and other pieces of data he collected from you today.

Yet you're not awake to see any of it. Blissfully sleeping and snoring away as Yves kept you company throughout the night.

__

You woke up the next morning feeling much better. But still not as healthy as usual. You should be fit enough to go to the university today.

Yves is gone and so are his belongings. However, you found a handwritten note addressed to you on your night stand.

"Your breakfast is in the fridge. Look for a mason jar with your name. It is ready to eat. -Yves"

You stretched and yawned, crumpling the paper and shooting it into the trash can.

You peeled the blanket off yourself and set your feet down onto the floor. That was when you realized he left something on the foot of your bed.

Another note resting on top of a set of neatly folded clothes and a bottle of sunscreen.

"The weather today will be reaching 90⁰F/32.2⁰C, take care of yourself and avoid the sun. -Yves"

The clothes he picked for you were the ones you forgot you had. It was breathable and cooling, but in your daily, personal style. He must have found it yesterday when he did your laundry.

You carried it in your arms and walked to your door to see yet another note- this time it was a folded A4 sized paper, attached to your bag, which looked noticeably lighter and... newer.

"I do not recommend leaving yet. But if you do, I packed an umbrella for you. Please wash your water bottle regularly, it is growing mold. Your bag was full of unnecessary paper scraps, wrappers, food crumbs, and other garbage. I had to hand wash it as I found a dried house lizard pressed between a dictionary and a magazine. Some of the notes and textbooks you carry were not even required for this semester or the next, hence I kept it away on your shelf. Your bag had holes at the bottom and was already falling apart at the seams. I sewed the best I could, but replacing and upgrading is the better option. Be mindful of your belongings.-Yves"

Your face became bright red after reading the last line. You never asked him to do this for you! Why is he judging? He chose to stick around! You don't like being told you're pathetic, directly or indirectly!

Did he really have to underline the word "mold" more than thrice? And why did he switch to red ink for that one word?

You took a deep breath and sighed. Exiting your room to pay a visit to the bathroom.

You were taken aback by the cleanliness. It looked like how it was in the listing, shiny and grime free. The shampoo and soap bottles were arranged neatly with no trace of dark sludge coating it.

There is another note stuck to the mirror.

This time, there were crude drawings depicting penises urinating on your name, no doubt vandalized by your housemates. You went ahead to read what Yves had to say.

"To (name), I replaced your toothbrush as that too, was growing mold. Pay attention to your hygiene or else you will be prone to sickness.- Yves"

There were hearts drawn all around his name, no doubt the culprit was your housemate who took a liking to him.

After taking a shower and changing into your new set of clothes, you left the bathroom to eat breakfast in the kitchen.

You opened the now pristine fridge and sure enough, there is a mason jar with a sticker of your name on its side.

You rotated it to see that he has written something else:

"Banana chia pudding: Chia seeds, almond milk, banana slices, vanilla extract, maple syrup, granola. Gluten-free and lactose-free. Do not heat, eat as is."

You're not sure how to feel about the taste, texture and temperature. It is "sick people" food after all. Perhaps you liked it, perhaps you don't. But you are definitely grateful that you have a free meal from Yves.

One of your housemates entered the kitchen, she greeted you as she began preparing her own meal.

You asked her what time Yves left.

"Beats me. His car was already gone when I woke up at 4am to take a piss. He did leave us a note though."

You asked her what she meant by that.

She shoved her hand in her pant pocket and handed a crumpled piece of paper to you.

"I will visit at 6pm, please take care of (name) for me. -Yves"

You asked where did she find this note.

"Next to the light switch in the living room" She cracked open an egg on her skillet.

You looked at the wall clock. It says 12:03pm

You have around 6 hours left before Yves comes back. There is nothing much to do in your house because the Internet runs at a snail's pace and there is no air conditioning. So you would be boiling in your room.

You think you're well enough to move around and you definitely do not want to spend time with your housemates.

You don't have to go to the university, since your exams are over and so are your classes for the semester. But all the study spots, including the library, have air conditioning.